univ  . ill.  i^iLrary 

53 

Ull 


mbrart 

UMVER8ITY  OF  ILUNOti 


Number  57. 


Published  by  HARPER  & BROTHERS,  New  York. 


Price,  20  Cts. 


Mat  9,  1879. 


Copyright,  1878,  by  Harpkr  «fe  Brothers. 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES 

FROM  THE  ACCESSION  OF  QUEEN  VICTORIA  TO  THE  BERLIN  CONGRESS. 


BY 


Justin  McCarthy. 


NUMBER  I.,  CONTAINING  VOLUMES  I.  AND  II 


E—SSS-S 

S5«^SS2risrSS:  Wl,“ Iora  P‘"“‘  ,-xxm' The  In™‘"  * ,he  a ™ *££££» 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  KING  IS  DEAD  ! LONG  LIVE  THE  QUEEN 

Before  half-past  two  o’clock  on  the  more 
ing  of  June  20,  1837,  William  IV.  was  lyinj 
dead  in  Windsor  Castle,  while  the  messen 
gers  were  already  hurrying  off  to  Reusing 
ton  Palace  to  bear  to  his  successor  her  sum 
mons  to  the  throne.  The  illness  of  the  Kin: 
had  been  but  short,  and  at  one  time,  evei 
after  it  had  been  pronounced  alarming,  i 
seemed  to  take  so  hopeful  a turn  that  th 
physicians  began  to  think  it  would  pas 
harmlessly  away.  But  the  King  was  an  ok 
man — was  an  old  man  even  when  he  came  t< 
the  throne, and  when  the  dangerous  symptom; 
again  exhibited  themselves,  their  warnin' 
was  very  soon  followed  by  fulfilment.  Thi 
death  of  King  William  may  be  fairly  re 
garded  as  having  closed  an  era  of  our  his 
tory.  With  him,  we  may  believe,  ended  th< 
reign  of  personal  government  in  England 
W ilham  was  indeed  a constitutional  king  ii 
more  than  mere  name.  He  was  to  the  bes 
ot  Ins  lights  a faithful  representative  of  th< 
constitutional  principle.  He  was  as  far  ir 
advance  of  his  two  predecessors  in  under 
standing  and  acceptance  of  the  principle  a: 
ms  successor  has  proved  herself  beyond  him 
Constitutional  government  has  developed  it 
seit  gaaually,  as  everything  else  has  done  ir 
English  politics.  The  written  principle  anc 
code  of  its  system  it  would  be  as  vain  to  look 
lor  as  tortile  British  Constitution  itself.  Kina 
W imam  still/ held  to  and  exercised  the  rigid 
o dismiss  hit  ministers  when  he  pleased,  and 


I because  he  pleased.  His  father  had  held  to 
the  right  of  maintaining  favorite  ministers  in 
defiance  of  repeated  votes  of  the  House  of 
Commons.  It  would  not  be  easy  to  find  any 
written  rule  or  declaration  of  constitutional 
law  pronouncing  decisively  that  either  was 
in  the  wrong.  But  in  our  day  we  should  be- 
lieve that  the  constitutional  freedom  of  Eng- 
land was  outraged,  or  at  least  put  in  the  ex- 
tremest  danger,  if  a sovereign  were  to  dis- 
miss a ministry  at  mere  pleasure,  or  to  retain 
it  in  despite  of  the  expressed  wish  of  the 
House  of  Commons.  Virtually,  therefore, 
there  was  still  personal  government  in  the 
reign  of  William  IV.  With  his  death  the 
long  chapter  of  its  history  came  to  an  end. 
We  find  it  difficult  now  to  believe  that  it  was 
a living  principle,  openly  at  work  among  us, 
if  not  openly  acknowledged,  so  lately  as  in 
the  reign  of  King  William. 

The  closing  scenes  of  King  William’s  life 
were  undoubtedly  characterized  by  some  per- 
sonal dignity.  As  a rule  sovereigns  show 
that  they  know  how  to  die.  Perhaps  the 
necessary  consequence  of  their  training,  by 
virtue  of  which  they  come  to  regard  them- 
selves always  as  the  central  figures  in  great 
state  pageantry,  is  to  make  them  assume  a 
manner  of  dignity  on  all  occasions  when  the 
eyes  of  their  subjects  may  be  supposed  to  be 
on  them,  even  if  the  dignity  of  bearing  is  not 
the  free  gift  of  nature.  The  manners  of  Wil- 
liam IV . had  been,  like  those  of  most  of  his 
brothers,  somewhat  rough  and  overbearing. 
He  had  been  an  unmanageable  naval  officer. 
He  had  again  and  again  disregarded  or  dis- 


obeyed orders,  and  at  last  it  had  been  found 
convenient  to  withdraw  him  from  active  ser- 
vice altogether,  and  allow  him  to  rise 
through  the  successive  ranks  of  his  profes- 
sion by  a merely  formal  and  technical  pro- 
cess of  ascent.  In  his  more  private  capacity 
he  had,  when  younger,  indulged  more  than 
once  in  unseemly  and  insufferable  freaks  of 
temper.  He  had  made  himself  unpopular 
while  Duke  of  Clarence  by  his  strenuous  op- 
position to  some  of  the  measures  which  were 
especially  desired  by  all  the  enlightenment  of 
the  country.  He  was,  for  example,  a deter- 
mined opponent  of  the  measures  for  the  abo- 
lition of  the  slave  trade.  He  had  wrangled 
publicly,  in  open  debate,  with  some  of  his 
brothers  in  the  House  of  Lords  ; and  words 
had  been  interchanged  among  the  royal  prin- 
ces which  could  not  be  heard  in  our  day 
even  in  the  hottest  debates  of  the  more  tur- 
bulent House  of  Commons.  But  William 
seems  to  have  been  one  of  the  men  whom  in- 
creased responsibility  improves.  He  was  far 
better  as  a king  than  as  a prince.  He  proved 
that  he  was  able  at  least  to  undestand  that 
first  duty  of  a constitutional  sovereign  which, 
to  the  last  day  of  his  active  life,  his  father, 
George  III.,  never  could  be  brought  to  com- 
prehend— that  the  personal  predilections  and 
prejudices  of  the  King  must  sometimes  give 
way  to  the  public  interest. 

Nothing  perhaps  in  life  became  him  like 
to  the  leaving  of  it.  His  closing  days  were 
marked  by  gentleness  and  kindly  considera- 
tion for  the  feelings  of  those  around  him. 
When  he  awoke  on  June  IS  he  remembered 


2 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


that  it  was  the  anniversary  of  the  battle  of 
Waterloo.  He  expressed  a strong  pathetic 
wish  to  live  over  that  day,  even  if  he  were 
never  to  see  another  sunset.  He  called  for 
the  flag  which  the  Duke  of  Wellington  al- 
ways sent  him  on  that  anniversary,  and  he 
laid  his  hand  upon  the  eagle  which  adorned 
it,  and  said  he  felt  revived  by  the  touch.  He 
had  himself  attended  since  his  accession  the 
Waterloo  banquet ; but  this  time  the  Duke  of 
Wellington  thought  it  would  perhaps  be  more 
seemly  to  have  the  dinner  put  off,  and  sent 
accordingly  to  take  the  wishes  of  his  Maj- 
esty. The  Ring  declared  that  the  dinner 
must  go  on  as  usual,  and  sent  to  the  Duke  a 
friendly,  simple  message  expressing  his  hope 
that  the  guests  might  have  a pleasant  day. 
He  talked  in  his  homely  w^y  to  those  about 
him,  his  direct  language  seeming  to  acquire 
a sort  of  tragic  dignity  from  the  approach  of 
the  death  that  was  so  near.  He  had  prayers 
read  to  him  again  and  again,  and  called  those 
near  him  to  witness  that  he  had  always  been 
a faithfid  believer  in  the  truths  of  religion. 
He  had  his  despatch-boxes  brought  to  him, 
and  tried  to  get  through  some  business  with 
his  private  secretary.  It  was  remarked  with 
some  interest  that  the  last  official  act  he  ever 
performed  was  to  sign  with  his  trembling 
hand  the  pardon  of  a condemned  criminal. 
Even  a far  nobler  reign  than  his  would  have 
received  new  dignity  if  it  closed  with  a 
deed  of  mercy.  When  some  of  those  around 
him  endeavored  to  encourage  him  with  the 
idea  that  he  might  recover  and  live  many 
years  yet,  he  declared,  with  a simplicity 
which  had  something  oddly  pathetic  in  it, 
that  he  would  be  willing  to  live  ten 
years  yet  for  the  sake  of  the  country.  The 
poor  King  was  evidently  under  the  sincere 
conviction  that  England  could  hardly  get  on 
without  him.  His  consideration  for  his  coun- 
try, whatever  whimsical  thoughts  it  may  sug- 
gest, is  entitled  to  some  at  least  of  the  respect 
which  we  give  to  the  dying  groan  of  a Pitt 
or  a Mirabeau  who  fears  with  too  much  rea- 
son that  he  leaves  a blank  not  easily  to  be 
filled.  “ Young  royal  tarry-breeks”  Wil- 
liam had  been  jocularly  called  by  Robert 
Burns  fifty  years  before,  when  there  was  yet 
a popular  belief  that  he  would  come  all  right 
and  do  brilliant  and  gallant  things,  and  be- 
come a stout  sailor  in  whom  a seafaring  na- 
tion might  feel  pride.  He  disappointed  all 
such  expectations  ; but  it  must  be  owned 
that  when  responsibility  came  upon  him  he 
disappointed  expectation  anew  in  a different 
way,  and  was  a better  sovereign,  more  deserv- 
ing of  the  complimentary  title  of  patriot- 
king,  that  even  his  friends  would  have  ven- 
tured to  anticipate. 

There  were  eulogies  pronounced  upon  him 
after  his  death  in  both  Houses  of  Parliament 
as  a matter  of  course.  It  is  not  necessary, 
however,  to  set  down  to  mere  court  homage 
or  parliamentary  form  some  of  the  praises 
that  were  bestowed  on  the  dead  Bang  by  Lord 
Melbourne  and  Lord  Brougham  and  Lord 
Grey.  A certain  tone  of  sincerity,  not  quite 
free  perhaps  from  surprise,  appears  to  run 
through  some  of  these  expressions  of  admira- 
tion. They  seem  to  say  that  the  speakers  were 
at  one  time  or  another  considerably  surprised 
to  find  that  after  all  William  really  was  able 
and  willing  on  grave  occasions  to  subordin- 
ate his  personal  likings  and  dislikings  to  con- 
siderations of  State  policy,  and  to  what  was 
shown  to  him  to  be  for  the  good  of  the  nation. 
In  this  sense  at  least  he  may  be  called  a pat- 
riot-king. We  have  advanced  a good  deal 
since  that  time,  and  we  require  somewhat 
higher  and  more  positive  qualities  in  a sover- 
eign now  to  excite  our  political  wonder.  But 
we  must  judge  William  by  the  reigns  that 
went  before,  and  not  the  reign  that  came 
after  him  ; and,  with  that  consideration 
borne  in  mind,  we  may  accept  the  panegyric 
of  Lord  Melbourne  and  of  Lord  Grey,  and 
admit  that  on  the;  whole  he  was  better  than 
his  education,  his  early  opportunities,  and 
Ms  early  promise,1 


William  IV.  (third  son  of  George  III.)  had 
left  no  children  who  could  have  succeeded  to 
the  throne,  and  the  crown  passed  therefore 
to  the  daughter  of  his  brother  (fourth  son  of 
George),  the  Duke  of  Kent.  This  was  the 
Princess  Alexandrina  Victoria,  who  was  born 
at  Kensington  Palace  on  May  24, 1819.  The 
princess  was  therefore  at  this  time  little  more 
than  eighteen  years  of  age.  The  Duke  of 
Kent  died  a few  months  after  the  birth  of 
his  daughter,  and  the  child  was  brought  up 
under  the  care  of  his  widow.  She  was  well 
brought  up  : both  as  regards  her  intellect 
and  her  character  her  training  was  excellent. 
She  was  taught  to  be  self-reliant,  brave,  and 
systematical.  Prudence  and  economy  were 
inculcated  on  her  as  though  she  had  been 
born  to  be  poor.  One  is  not  generally  in- 
clined to  attach  much  importance  to  what 
historians  tell  us  of  the  education  of  contem- 
porary princes  or  princesses  ; but  it  cannot 
be  doubted  that  the  Princess  Victoria  was 
trained  for  intelligence  and  goodness. 

“ The  death  of  the  King  of  England  has 
everywhere  caused  the  greatest  sensa- 
tion. . . . Cousin  Victoria  is  said  to 

have  shown  astonishing  self-possession.  She 
undertakes  a heavy  responsibility,  especially 
at  the  present  moment,  when  parties  are  so 
excited,  and  all  rest  their  hopes  on  her.” 
These  words  are  an  extract  from  a letter 
written  on  July  4,  1837,  by  the  late  Prince 
Albert,  the  Prince  Consort  of  so  many  happy 
years.  The  letter  was  written  to  the  Prince’s 
father,  from  Bonn.  The  young  Queen 
had  indeed  behaved  with  remarkable  self- 
possession.  There  is  a pretty  description, 
which  has  been  often  quoted,  but  will  bear 
citing  once  more,  given  by  Miss  Wynn,  of 
the  manner  in  which  the  young  sovereign  re- 
ceived the  news  of  her  accession  to  a throne. 
The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  Dr.  Howley, 
and  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  the  Marquis  of 
Conyngham,  left  Windsor  for  Kensington 
Palace,  where  the  Princess  Victoria  had  been 
residing,  to  inform  her  of  the  King’s  death. 
It  was  two  hours  after  midnight  when  they 
started,  and  they  did  not  reach  Kensington 
until  five  o’clock  in  the  morning.  “ They 
knocked,  they  rang,  they  thumped  for  a con- 
siderable time  before  they  could  rouse  the 
porter  at  the  gate  ; they  were  again  kept 
waiting  in  the  courtyard,  then  turned  into 
one  of  the  lower  rooms,  where  they  seemed 
forgotten  by  everybody.  They  rang  the 
bell,  and  desired  that  the  attendant  of  the 
Princess  Victoria  might  be  sent  to  inform 
her  Royal  Highness  that  they  requested  an 
audience  on  business  of  importance.  _ After 
another  delay,  and  another  ringing  to  inquire 
the  cause,  the  attendant  was  summoned,  who 
stated  that  the  Princess  was  in  such  a sweet 
sleep  that  she  could  not  venture  to  disturb 
her.  Then  they  said,  “We  are  come  on 
business  of  state  to  the  Queen,  and  even  her 
sleep  must  give  way  to  that.”  It  did  ; and 
to  prove  that  she  did  not  keep  them  waiting, 
in  a few  minutes  she  came  into  the  room  in  a 
loose  white  nightgown  and  shawl,  her  night- 
cap thrown  off,  and  her  hair  falling  upon 
her  shoulders,  her  feet  in  slippers,  tears  in 
her  eyes,  but  perfectly  collected  and  digni- 
fied.” The  Prime  Minister,  Lord  Mel- 
bourne, was  presently  sent  for,  and  a meet- 
ing of  the  Privy  Council  summoned  for 
eleven  o’clock,  when  the  Lord  Chancellor 
administered  the  usual  oaths  to  the  Queen, 
and  her  Majesty  received  in  return  the  oaths 
of  allegiance  of  the  Cabinet  ministers  and 
other  privy  councillors  present.  Mr.  Gre- 
ville,  who  was  usually  as  little  disposed  to 
record  any  enthusiastic  admiration  of  royalty 
and  royal  personages  as  Humboldt  or  Varn- 
hagen  von  Ense  could  have  been,  has  de- 
scribed the  scene  in  words  well  worthy  of 
quotation. 

“ The  King  died  at  twenty  minutes  after 
two  yesterday  morning,  and  the  young 
Queen  met  the  Council  at  Kensington  Palace 
at  eleven.  Never  was  anything  like  the  first 
impression  she  produced,  or  the  chorus  of 


praise  and  admiration  which  is  raised  about 
her  manner  and  behavior,  and  certainly  not 
without  justice.  It  was  very  extraordinary, 
and  something  far  beyond  what  was  looked 
for.  Her  extreme  youth  and  inexperience, 
and  the  ignorance  of  the  world  concerning 
her,  naturally  excited  intense  curiosity  to  see 
how  she  would  act  on  this  trying  occasion, 
and  there  was  a considerable  assemblage  at 
the  palace,  notwithstanding  the  short  notice 
which  was  given.  The  first  thing  to  be 
done  was  to  teach  her  her  lesson,  which,  for 
this  purpose,  Melbourne  had  himself  to 
learn.  . . . She  bowed  to  the  lords, 

took  her  seat,  and  then  read  her  speech  in  a 
clear,  distinct,  and  audible  voice,  and  with- 
out any  appearance  of  fear  or  embarrassment. 
She  was  quite  plainly  dressed,  and  in  mourn- 
ing. After  she  had  read  her  speech,  and 
taken  and  signed  the  oath  for  the  security  of 
the  Church  of  Scotland,  the  privy  councillors 
were  sworn,  the  two  royal  dukes  first  by  them- 
selves ; and  as  these  two  old  men,  her 
uncles,  knelt  before  her,  swearing  allegiance 
and  kissing  her  hand,  I saw  her  blush  up  to 
the  eyes,  as  if  she  felt  the  contrast  between 
their  civil  and  their  natural  relations,  and 
this  was  the  only  sign  of  emotion  which  she 
evinced.  Her  manner  to  them  was  very 
graceful  and  engaging ; she  kissed  them 
both,  and  rose  from  her  chair  and  moved  to- 
wards the  Duke  of  Sussex,  who  was  farthest 
from  her,  and  too  infirm  to  reach  her.  She 
seemed  rather  bewildered  at  the  multitude  of 
men  who  were  sworn,  and  who  came,  one 
after  another,  to  kiss  her  hand,  but  she  did 
not  speak  to  anybody,  nor  did  she  make  the 
slightest  difference  in  her  manner,  or  show 
any  in  her  countenance,  to  any  individual 
of  any  rank,  station,  or  party.  I particular- 
ly watched  her  when  Melbourne  and  the 
ministers,  and  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and 
Peel  approached  her.  She  went  through  the 
whole  ceremony,  occasionally  looking  at 
Melbourne  for  instruction  when  she  had  any 
doubt  what  to  do,  which  hardly  ever  occur- 
red, and  with  perfect  calmness  and  self-pos- 
session, but  at  the  same  time  with  a graceful 
modesty  and  propriety  particularly  interest- 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


3 


lie  taken  too  implicitly  except  as  to  matters 
which  he  actually  saw,  the  young  Queen  had 
been  previously  kept  in  such  seclusion  by  her 
mother — “ never,”  he  says,  “ having  slept  out 
of  her  bedroom,  nor  been  alone  with  anybody 
but  herself  and  the  Baroness  Lehzen” — that 
“not  one  of  her  acquaintance,  none  of  the 
attendants  at  Kensington,  not  even  the 
Duchess  of  Northumberland,  her  governess, 
have  any  idea  what  she  is  or  what  she  prom- 
ises to  be.”  There  was  enough  in  the 
court  of  the  two  sovereigns  who  went  before 
Queen  Victoria  to  justify  any  strictness  of 
seclusion  which  the  Duchess  of  Kent  might 
desire  for  her  daughter.  George  IV.  was  a 
Charles  II.  without  the  education  or  the  tal- 
ents ; William  IV.  was  a Frederick  William 
of  Prussia  without  the  genius.  The  ordi- 
nary manners  of  the  society  at  the  court  of 
either  had  a full  flavor,  to  put  it  in  the  soft- 
est way,  such  as  a decent  taproom  would 
hardly  exhibit  in  a time  like  the  present.  No 
one  can  read  even  the  most  favorable  de- 
scriptions given  by  contemporaries  of  the 
manners  of  those  two  courts  without  feeling 
grateful  to  the  Dutchess  of  Kent  for  resolv- 
ing that  her  daughter  should  see  as  little  as 
possible  of  their  ways  and  their  company. 

It  was  remarked  with  some  interest  that 
the  Queen  subscribed  herself  simply  “ Vic- 
toria,” and  not,  as  had  been  expected,  “ Al- 
exandria Victoria.”  Mr.  Greville  mentions 
in  his  diary  of  December  24,  1819,  that  “ the 
Duke  of  Kent  gave  the  name  of  Alexandria 
to  his  daughter  in  compliment  to  the  Em- 
peror of  Russia.  She  was  to  have  had  the 
name  of  Georgiana,  but  the  duke  insisted 
upon  Alexandrina  being  her  first  name.  The 
Regent  sent  for  Lieven”  (the  Russian  ambas- 
sador, husband  of  the  famous  Princess  de 
Lieven),  “ and  made  him  a great  many  com- 
pliments, en  le  persiflant,  on  the  Emperor’s 
being  godfather,  but  informed  him  that  the 
name  of  Georgiana  could  be  second  to  no 
other  in  this  country,  and  therefore  she 
could  not  bear  it  at  all.”  It  was  a very  wise 
choice  to  employ  simply  the  name  of  Vic- 
toria, around  which  no  ungenial  associations 
of  any  kind  hung  at  that  time,  and  which  can 
have  only  grateful  associations  in  the  history 
of  this  country  for  the  future. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  go  into  any  formal 
description  of  the  various  ceremonials  and 
pageantries  which  celebrated  the  accession 
of  the  new  sovereign.  The  proclamation  of 
the  Queen,  her  appearance  for  the  first  time 
on  the  throne  in  the  House  of  Lords  when 
she  prorogued  Parliament  in  person,  and 
even  the  gorgeous  festival  of  her  coronation, 
which  took  place  on  June  28,  in  the  follow- 
ing year,  1838,  may  be  passed  over  with  a 
mere  word  of  record.  It  is  worth  mention- 
ing, however,  that  at  the  coronation  proces- 
sion one  of  the  most  conspicuous  figures  was 
that  of  Marshal  Soult,  Duke  of  Dalmatia,  the 
opponent  of  Moore  and  Wellington  in  the 
Peninsula,  the  commander  of  the  Old  Guard 
at  Liitzen,  and  one  of  the  strong  arms  of 
Napoleon  at  Waterloo.  Soult  had  been  sent 
as  ambassador-extraordinary  to  represent  the 
French  Government  and  people  at  the  coro- 
nation of  Queen  Victoria,  and  nothing  could 
exceed  the  enthusiasm  with  which  he  was  re- 
ceived by  the  crowds  in  the  streets  of  Lon- 
don on  that  day.  The  white-haired  soldier 
was  cheered  wherever  a glimpse  of  his  face 
or  figure  could  be  caught.  He  appeared  in 
the  procession  in  a carriage,  the  frame  of 
which  had  been  used  on  occasions  of  state  by 
some  of  the  princes  of  the  House  of  Conde, 
and  which  Soult  had  had  splendidly  decorated 
for  the  ceremony  of  the  coronation.  Even 
the  Austrian  ambassador,  says  an  eyewitness, 
attracted  less  attention  than  Soult,  although 
the  dress  of  the  Austrian,  Prince  Esterhazy, 
“ down  to  his  very  boot  heels  sparkled  with 
diamonds.”  The  comparison  savors  now  of 
the  ridiculous,  but  is  remarkably  expressive 
and  effective.  Prince  Esterhazy’s  name  in 
' — those  days  suggested  nothing  but  diamonds. 
His  diamonds  may  be  said  to  glitter  through 


all  the  light  literature  of  the  time.  When 
Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  wanted  a com- 
parison with  which  to  illustrate  excessive 
splendor  and  brightness,  she  found  it  in 
“Mr.  Pitt's  diamonds.”  Prince  Esterhazy’s 
served  the  same  purpose  for  the  writers  of 
the  early  years  of  the  present  reign.  It  was, 
therefore,  perhaps,  no  very  poor  tribute  to  the 
stout  old  moustache  of  the  Republic  and  the 
Empire  to  say  that  at  a London  pageant  his 
war-worn  face  drew  attention  away  from 
Prince  Esterhazy’s  diamonds.  Soult  himself 
felt  very  warmly  the  genuine  kindness  of 
the  reception  given  to  him.  Years  after,  in 
a debate  in  the  French  Chamber,  when  M. 
Guizot  was  accused  of  too  much  partiality 
for  the  English  alliance,  Marshal  Soult  de- 
clared himself  a warm  champion  of  that  alli- 
ance. “ 1 fought  the  English  down  to  Tou- 
louse,” he  said,  “ when  I fired  the  last  can- 
non in  defence  of  the  national  independence  ; 
in  the  meantime  I have  been  in  London,  and 
France  knows  the  reception  which  I had 
there.  The  English  themselves  cried  ‘ Vive 
Soult !’ — they  cried  ‘ Soult  for  ever  1’  I had 
learned  to  estimate  the  English  on  the  field  of 
battle ; I have  learned  to  estimate  them  in 
peace  ; and  I repeat  that  I am  a warm  parti- 
san of  the  English  alliance.”  History  is  not 
exclusively  made  by  cabinets  and  professional 
diplomatists.  It  is  highly  probable  that  the 
cheers  of  a London  crowd  on  the  day  of  the 
Queen’s  coronation  did  something  genuine 
and  substantial  to  restore  the  good  feeling  be- 
tween this  country  and  France,  and  efface 
the  bitter  memories  of  Waterloo. 

It  is  a fact  well  worthy  of  note,  amid  what- 
ever records  of  court  ceremonial  and  of  polit- 
ical change,  that  a few  days  after  the  acces- 
sion of  the  Queen,  Mr.  Montefiore  was  elected 
Sheriff  of  London,  the  first  Jew  who  had 
ever  been  chosen  for  that  office  ; aud  that  he 
received  knighthood  at  the  hands  of  her 
Majesty  when  she  visited  the  City  on  the  fol- 
lowing Lord  Mayor’s  day.  He  was  the  first 
Jew  whom  royalty  had  honored  in  this  coun- 
try since  the  good  old  times  when  royalty 
was  pleased  to  borrow  the  Jew’s  money,  or 
order  instead  the  extraction  of  his  teeth. 
The  expansion  of  the  principle  of  religious 
liberty  and  equality,  which  has  been  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  characteristics  of  the 
reign  of  Queen  Victoria,  could  hardly  have 
been  more  becomingly  inaugurated  than  by 
the  compliment  which  sovereign  and  city 
paid  to  Sir  Moses  Montefiore. 

The  first  signature  attached  to  the  Act  of 
Allegiance  presented  to  the  Queen  at  Kensing- 
ton Palace  was  that  of  her  eldest  surviving 
uncle,  Ernest,  Duke  of  Cumberland.  The 
fact  may  be  taken  as  an  excuse  for  introduc- 
ing a few  words  here  to  record  the  severance 
that  then  took  place  between  the  interests  of 
this  country,  or  at  least  the  reigning  family 
of  these  realms,  and  another  State,  which 
had  for  a long  time  been  bound  up  togethei 
in  a manner  seldom  satisfactory  to  the  Eng- 
lish people.  In  the  whole  history  of  Eng- 
land it  will  be  observed  that  few  things  have 
provoked  greater  popular  dissatisfaction  than 
the  connection  of  a reigning  family  with  the 
crown  or  rulership  of  some  foreign  State. 
There  is  an  instinctive  jealousy  on  such  a 
point,  which  even  when  it  is  unreasonable  is 
not  unnatural.  A sovereign  of  England  had 
better  be  sovereign  of  England,  and  of  no 
foreign  State.  Many  favorable  auspices  at- 
tended the  accession  of  Queen  Victoria  to  the 
throne  ; some  at  least  of  these  were  associated 
with  her  sex.  The  country  was  in  general 
disposed  to  think  that  the  accession  of  a 
woman  to  the  throne  would  somewhat  clarify 
and  purify  the  atmosphere  of  the  Court.  It 
had  another  good  effect  as  well,  and  one  of 
a strictly  political  nature.  It  severed  the 
connection  which  had  existed  for  some  gen- 
erations between  this  country  and  Hanover. 
The  connection  was  only  personal,  the  suc- 
cessive kings  of  England  being  also  by  suc- 
cession sovereigns  of  Hanover. 

The  crown  of  Hanover  was  limited  in  its 


descent  to  the  male  line,  and  it  passed  on  the 
death  of  William  IV.  to  his  eldest  surviving 
brother,  Ernest,  Duke  of  Cumberland.  The 
change  was  in  almost  every  way  satisfactory 
to  the  English  people.  The  indirect  connec- 
tion between  England  and  Hanover  had  at 
no  time  been  a matter  of  gratification  to  the 
public  of  this  country.  Many  cooler  and 
more  enlightened  persons  than  honest  Squire 
Western  had  viewed  with  disfavor,  and  at 
one  time  with  distrust,  the  division  of  inter- 
ests which  the  ownership  of  the  two  crowns 
seemed  almost  of  necessity  to  create  in  our 
English  sovereigns.  Besides  it  must  be 
owned  that  the  people  of  this  country  were 
not  by  any  means  sorry  to  be  rid  of  the  Duke 
of  Cumberland.  Not  many  of  George  III.’s 
sons  were  popular  ; the  Duke  of  Cumberland 
was  probably  the  least  popular  of  all.  He 
was  believed  by  many  persons  to  have  had 
something  more  than  an  indirect,  or  passive, 
or  innocent  share  in  the  Orange  plot,  discov- 
ered and  exposed  by  Joseph  Hume  in  1835, 
for  setting  aside  the  claims  of  the  young 
Princess  Victoria,  and  putting  himself,  the 
Duke  of  Cumberland,  on  the  throne ; a 
scheme  which  its  authors  pretended  to  justify 
by  the  preposterous  assertion  that  they  feared 
the  Duke  of  Wellington  would  otherwise 
seize  the  crown  for  himself.  His  manners 
were  rude,  overbearing,  and  sometimes  even 
brutal.  He  had  personal  habits  which  seemed 
rather  fitted  for  the  days  of  Tiberius,  or  for 
the  court  of  Peter  the  Great,  than  for  the 
time  and  sphere  to  which  he  belonged. 
Rumor  not  unnaturally  exaggerated  his  de- 
fects, and  in  the  mouths  of  many  his  name 
was  the  symbol  of  the  darkest  and  fiercest 
passions,  and  even  crimes.  Some  of  the  pop- 
ular reports  with  regard  to  him  had  their 
foundation  only  in  the  common  detestation 
of  his  character  and  dread  of  his  influence. 
But  it  is  certain  that  he  was  profligate,  sel- 
fish, overbearing,  and  quarrelsome.  A man 
with  these  qualities  would  usually  be  de- 
scribed in  fiction  as  at  all  events  bluntly  hon- 
est and  outspoken  ; but  the  Duke  of  Cum- 
berland was  deceitful  and  treacherous.  He 
was  outspoken  in  his  abuse  of  those  with 
whom  he  quarrelled,  and  in  his  style  of  anec- 
dote and  jocular  conversation  ; but  in  no 
other  sense.  The  Duke  of  Wellington, 
whom  he  hated,  told  Mr.  Greville  that  he 
once  asked  George  IV.  why  the  Duke  of 
Cumberland  was  so  unpopular,  and  the  King 
replied,  “ Because  there  never  was  a father 
well  with  his  son,  or  husband  with  his  wife, 
or  lover  with  his  mistress,  or  friend  with  his 
friend,  that  he  did  not  try  to  make  mischief 
between  them.”  The  first  thing  he  didoc 
his  accession  to  the  throne  of  Hanover  was 
to  abrogate  the  constitution  which  had  beer, 
agreed  to  by  the  Estates  of  the  kingdom,  and 
sanctioned  by  the  late  King,  William  IV. 
“ Radicalism,”  said  the  King,  writing  to  an 
English  nobleman,  ‘ ‘ has  been  here  all  the 
order  of  the  day,  and  all  the  lower  class  ap- 
pointed to  office  were  more  or  less  imbued 
with  these  laudable  principles.  . . . But  I 
have  cut  the  wings  of  this  democracy.”  II* 
went  indeed  pretty  vigorously  to  work,  for 
he  dismissed  from  their  offices  seven  of  the 
most  distinguished  professors  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Gottingen,  because  they  signed  a 
protest  against  his  arbitrary  abrogation  of  the 
constitution.  Among  the  men  thus  pushed 
from  their  stools  were — Gervinus,  the  cele- 
brated historian  and  Shakespearian  critic,  at 
that  time  professor  of  history  and  literature  ; 
Ewald,  the  orientalist  and  theologian  ; Jacob 
Grimm  ; and  Frederick  Dahlmann,  professor 
of  political  science.  Gervinus,  Grimm,  and 
Dahlmann  were  not  merely  deprived  of  their 
offices,  but  were  actually  sent  into  exile. 
The  exiles  were  accompanied  across  the  fron- 
tier by  an  immense  concourse  of  students, 
who  gave  them  a triumphant  Oeleit  in  true 
student  fashion,  and  converted  what  was 
meant  for  degradation  and  punishment  into 
a procession  of  honor.  The  offence  against 
all  rational  principles  of  civil  government  in 


4 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


these  arbitrary  proceedings  on  the  part  of  the 
new  King  was  the  more  flagrant  because  it 
could  nc  t even  be  pretended  that  the  pro- 
fessors were  interfering  with  political  matters 
outside  tneir  province,  or  that  they  were  is- 
suing manifestoes  calculated  to  disturb  the 
public  peace.  The  University  of  Gottingen 
at  that  time  sent  a representative  to  the 
Estates  of  the  kingdom,  and  the  protest  to 
which  the  seven  professors  attached  their 
names  was  addressed  to  the  academical  sen- 
ate, and  simply  declared  that  they  would  take 
no  part  in  the  ensuing  election,  because  of 
the  suspension  of  the  constitution.  All  this 
led  to  somewhat  serious  disturbances  in  Han- 
over, which  it  needed  the  employment  of  mil- 
itary force  to  suppress. 

It  was  felt  in  England  that  the  mere  depar- 
ture of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  from  this 
country  would  have  made  the  severance  of 
the  connection  with  Hanover  desirable,  even 
if  it  had  not  been  in  other  ways  an  advantage 
to  us.  Later  times  have  shown  how  much 
we  have  gained  by  the  separation.  It  would 
have  been  exceedingly  inconvenient,  to  say 
the  least,  if  the  crown  worn  by  a sovereign 
of  England  had  been  hazarded  in  the  war 
between  Austria  and  Prussia  in  1866.  Our 
reigning  family  must  have  seemed  to  suffer 
in  dignity  if  that  crown  had  been  roughly 
knocked  off  the  head  of  its  wearer  who  hap- 
pened to  be  an  English  sovereign  ; and  it 
would  have  been  absurd  to  expect  that  the 
English  people  could  engage  in  a quarrel 
with  which  their  interests  and  honor  had 
absolutely  nothing  to  do,  for  the  sake  of  a 
mere  family  possession  of  their  ruling  house. 
Looking  back  from  this  distance  of  time  and 
across  a change  of  political  and  social  man- 
ners far  greater  than  the  distance  of  time 
might  seem  to  explain,  it  appears  difficult  to 
understand  the  passionate  emotions  which 
the  accession  of  the  young  Queen  seems  to 
have  excited  on  all  sides.  Some  influential 
and  prominent  politicians  talked  and  wrote 
as  if  there  were  really  a possibility  of  the 
Tories  attempting  a revolution  in  favor  of 
the  Hanoverian  branch  of  the  royal  family  ; 
as  if  some  such  crisis  had  again  come  round  as 
that  which  tried  the  nation  when  Queen  Anne 
died.  On  the  other  hand,  there  were  heard 
loud  and  shrill  cries  that  the  Queen  was  des- 
tined to  be  conducted  by  her  constitutional 
advisers  into  a precipitate  pathway  leading 
sheer  down  into  popery  and  anarchy.  The 
Times  insisted  that  “ the  anticipations  of  cer- 
tain Irish  Roman  Catholics  respecting  the 
success  of  their  warfare  against  Church  and 
State  under  the  auspices  of  these  not  untried 
ministers  into  whose  hands  the  all  but  infant 
Queen  has  been  compelled  by  her  unhappy 
condition  to  deliver  herself  and  her  indignant 
people,  are  to  be  taken  for  nothing,  and  as 
nothing,  but  the  chimeras  of  a band  of  vis- 
ionary traitors.”  The  Times  even  thought 
it  necessary  to  point  out  that  for  her  Majesty 
to  turn  papist,  to  marry  a papist,  “ or  in  any 
manner  follow  the  footsteps  of  the  Coburg 
family,  whom  these  incendiaries  describe  as 
papists,”  would  involve  an  “ immediate  for- 
feiture of  the  British  crown.”  On  the  other 
hand,  some  of  the  Radical  and  more  es- 
pecially Irish  papers  talked  in  the  plainest 
terms  of  Tory  plots  to  depose  or  even  to  as- 
sassinate the  Queen  and  put  the  Duke  of 
Cumberland  in  her  place.  O’Connell,  the 
great  Irish  agitator,  declared  in  a public 
speech  that  if  it  were  necessary  he  could  get 
‘ ‘ live  hundred  thousand  brave  Irishmen  to 
defend  the  life,  the  honor,  and  the  person  of 
the  beloved  young  lady  by  whom  England’s 
throne  is  now  filled.  ” Mr.  Henry  Grattan, 
the  son  of  the  famous  orator,  and  like  his 
father  a Protestant,  declared  at  a meeting  in 
Dublin,  that  “ if  her  Majesty  were  once  fairly 
placed  in  the  hands  of  the  Tories,  I would 
not  give  an  orange  peel  for  her  life.”  He 
even  went  on  to  put  his  rhetorical  declaration 
into  a more  distinct  form  : “ If  some  of  the 
low  miscreants  of  the  party  got  round  her 
Majesty  and  had  the  mixing  of  the  royal  bowl 


at  night,  I fear  she  would  have  a long  sleep.” 
This  language  seems  almost  too  absurd  for 
sober  record,  and  yet  was  hardly  more  ab- 
surd than  many  things  said  on  what  may  be 
called  the  other  side.  A Mr.  Bradshaw,  Tory 
member  for  Canterbury,  declared  at  a public 
meeting  in  that  ancient  city  that  the  sheet- 
anchor  of  the  Liberal  Ministry  was  the  body 
of  “ Irish  papists  and  rapparees  whom  the 
priests  return  to  the  House  of  Commons.” 
“ These  are  the  men  who  represent  the  big- 
oted savages,  hardly  more  civilized  than  the 
natives  of  New  Zealand,  but  animated  with 
a fierce,  undying  hatred  of  England.  Yet  on 
these  men  are  bestowed  the  countenance  and 
support  of  the  Queen  of  Protestant  England. 
For,  alas  ! her  Majesty  is  Queen  only  of  a 
faction,  and  is  as  much  of  a partisan  as  the 
Lord  Chancellor  himself.”  At  a Conserva- 
tive dinner  in  Lancashire,  a speaker  de- 
nounced the  Queen  and  her  ministers  on  the 
same  ground  so  vehemently,  that  the  Com- 
mander-in-Chief  addressed  a remonstrance  to 
some  military  officers  who  were  among  the 
guests  at  this  excited  banquet,  pointing  out  to 
them  the  serious  responsibility  they  incurred 
by  remaining  in  any  assembly  when  such 
language  was  uttered  and  such  sentiments 
were  expressed. 

No  one,  of  course,  would  take  impassioned 
and  inflated  harangues  of  this  kind  on  either 
side  as  a representation  of  the  general  feel- 
ing. Sober  persons  all  over  the  country  must 
have  known  perfectly  well  that  there  was  not 
the  slightest  fear  that  the  young  Queen  would 
turn  a Roman  Catholic,  or  that  her  Ministry 
intended  to  deliver  the  country  up  as  a prey 
to  Rome.  Sober  persons  everywhere,  too, 
must  have  known  equally  well  that  there  was 
no  longer  the  slightest  cause  to  feel  any  alarm 
about  a Tory  plot  to  hand  over  the  throne  of 
England  to  the  detested  Duke  of  Cumberland. 
We  only  desire  in  quoting  such  outrageous 
declarations  to  make  more  clear  the  condition 
of  the  public  mind,  and  to  show  what  the 
state  of  the  political  world  must  have  been 
when  such  extravagance  and  such  delusions 
were  possible.  We  have  done  this  partly  to 
show  what  were  the  trials  and  difficulties  un- 
der which  her  Majesty  came  to  the  throne, 
and  partly  for  the  mere  purpose  of  illustrat- 
ing the  condition  of  the  country  and  of  polit- 
ical education.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that 
all  over  the  country  passion  and  ignorance 
were  at  work  to  make  the  task  of  constitu- 
tional government  peculiarly  difficult.  A 
vast  number  of  the  followers  of  the  Tories 
in  country  places  really  believed  that  the 
Liberals  were  determined  to  hurry  the  Sov- 
ereign into  some  policy  tending  to  the  degra- 
dation of  the  monarchy.  If  any  cool  and 
enlightened  reasoner  were  to  argue  with 
them  on  this  point  and  endeavor  to  convince 
them  of  the  folly  of  ascribing  such  purposes 
to  a number  of  English  statesmen  whose  in- 
terests, position,  and  honor  were  absolutely 
bound  up  with  the  success  and  the  glory  of 
the  State,  the  indignant  and  unreasoning  To- 
ries would  be  able  to  cite  the  very  words  of 
so  great  and  so  sober-minded  a statesman  as 
Sir  Robert  Peel,  who  in  his  famous  speech 
to  the  electors  of  Tamworth  promised  to  res- 
cue the  constitution  from  being  made  the 
“victim  of  false  friends,”  and  the  country 
from  being  ‘ ‘ trampled  under  the  hoof  of  a 
ruthless  democracy.  ” If,  on  the  other  hand, 
a sensible  person  were  to  try  to  persuade  hot- 
headed people  on  the  opposite  side  that  it 
was  absurd  to  suppose  the  Tories  really  meant 
any  harm  to  the  freedom  and  the  peace  of 
the  country  and  the  security  of  the  succes- 
sion, he  might  be  invited  with  significant  ex- 
pression to  read  the  manifesto  issued  by  Lord 
Durham  to  the  electors  of  Sunderland,  in 
which  that  eminent  statesman  declared  that 
“ in  all  circumstances,  at  all  hazards,  be  the 
personal  consequences  what  they  may,”  he 
would  ever  be  found  ready  when  called  upon 
to  defend  the  principles  on  which  the  consti- 
tution of  the  country  was  then  settled.  We 
know  now  very  well  that  Sir  Robert  Peel  and 


Lord  Durham  were  using  the  language  of  inno- 
cent metaphor.  Sir  Robert  Peel  did  not  really 
fear  much  the  hoof  of  the  ruthless  democ- 
racy ; Lord  Durham  did  not  actually  expect 
to  be  called  upon  at  any  terrible  risk  to  him- 
self to  fight  the  battle  of  freedom  on  English 
soil.  But  when  those  whose  minds  had  been 
bewildered  and  whose  passions  had  been 
inflamed  by  the  language  of  the  Times  on 
the  one  side,  and  that  of  O’Connell  on  the 
other,  came  to  read  the  calmer  and  yet  suffi- 
ciently impassioned  words  of  responsible 
statesmen  like  Sir  Robert  Peel  and  Lord  Dur- 
ham, they  might  be  excused  if  they  found 
rather  a confirmation  than  a refutation  of 
their  arguments  and  their  fears. 

The  truth  is  that  the  country  was  in  a very 
excited  condition,  and  that  it  is  easy  to  im- 
agine a succession  of  events  which  might  in 
a moment  have  thrown  it  into  utter  confu- 
sion At  home  and  abroad  things  were  look- 
ing omnious  for  the  new  reign.  To  begin 
with,  the  last  two  reigns  had  on  the  whole 
done  much  to  loosen  not  only  the  personal 
feeling  of  allegiance,  but  even  the  general 
confidence  in  the  virtue  of  monarchical  rule. 
The  old  plan  of  personal  government  had  be- 
come an  anomaly,  and  the  system  of  a gen- 
uine constitutional  government,  such  as  we 
know,  had  not  yet  been  tried.  The  very 
manner  in  which  the  Reform  Bill  had  been 
carried,  the  political  stratagem  which  had 
been  resorted  to  when  further  resistance 
seemed  dangerous,  was  not  likely  to  exalt  in 
popular  estimate  the  value  of  what  was  then 
gracefully  called  constitutional  government. 
Only  a short  time  before  the  country  had 
seen  Catholic  emancipation  conceded,  not 
from  a sense  of  justice  on  the  part  of  minis- 
ters, but  avowedly  because  further  resistance 
must  lead  to  civil  disturbance.  There  was 
not  much  in  all  this  to  impress  an  intelligent 
and  independent  people  with  a sense  of  the 
great  wisdom  of  the  rulers  of  the  country,  or 
of  the  indispensable  advantages  of  the  system 
which  they  represented.  Social  discontent 
prevailed  almost  everywhere.  Economic 
laws  were  hardly  understood  by  the  country 
in  general.  Class  interests  were  fiercely  ar- 
rayed against  each  other.  The  cause  of  each 
man’s  class  filled  him  with  a positive  fanat- 
icism. He  was  not  a mere  selfish  and  grasp- 
ing partisan,  but  he  sincerely  believed  that 
each  other  class  was  arrayed  against  his,  and 
that  the  natural  duty  of  self-defence  and  self- 
preservation  compelled  him  to  stand  firmly 
by  his  own. 

CHAPTER  II. 

STATESMEN  AND  PARTIES. 

Lord  Melbourne  was  the  First  Minister 
of  the  Crown  when  the  Queen  succeeded  to 
the  throne.  He  was  a man  who  then  and 
always  after  made  himself  particularly  dear 
to  the  Queen,  and  for  whom  she  had  the 
strongest  regard.  He  was  of  kindly,  some- 
what indolent  nature  ; fair  and  even  gener- 
ous towards  his  political  opponents  ; of  the 
most  genial  disposition  towards  his  friends. 
He  was  emphatically  not  a strong  man.  He 
was  not  a man  to  make  good  grow  where  it 
was  not  already  growing,  to  adopt  the  expres- 
sion of  a great  author.  Long  before  that 
time  his  eccentric  wife,  Lady  Caroline 
Lamb,  had  excused  herself  for  some  of  her 
follies  and  frailties  by  pleading  that  her  hus- 
band was  not  a man  to  watch  over  any  one’s 
morals.  He  was  a kindly  counsellor  to  a 
young  Queen  ; and  happily  for  herself  the 
young  Queen  in  this  case  had  strong  clear 
sense  enough  of  her  own  not  to  be  absolutely 
dependent  on  any  counsel.  Lord  Melbourne 
was  not  a statesman.  His  best  qualities,  per- 
sonal kindness  and  good  nature  apart,  were 
purely  negative.  He  was  unfortunately  not 
content  even  with  the  reputation  for  a sort  of 
indolent  good  nature  wlficli  he  might  have 
well  deserved.  He  strove  to  make  himself 
appear  hopelessly  idle,  trivial,  and  careless. 
When  he  really  was  serious  and  earnest  he 
seemed  to  make  it  his  business  to  look  like 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


5 


one  in  whom  no  human  affairs  could  call  up 
a gleam  of  interest.  He  became  the  fan- 
faron of  levities  which  he  never  had.  We 
have  amusing  pictures  of  him  as  he  occupied 
himself  in  blowing  a feather  or  nursing  a 
sofa-cushion  while  receiving  an  important 
and  perhaps  highly  sensitive  deputation  from 
this  or  that  commercial  “interest.”  Those 
who  knew  him  insisted  that  he  really  was 
listening  with  all  his  might  and  main  ; that 
he  had  sat  up  the  whole  night  before,  study- 
ing the  question  which  he  seemed  to  think 
so  unworthy  of  any  attention  ; and  that  so 
far  from  being,  like  Horace,  wholly  absorb- 
ed in  his  trifles,  he  was  at  very  great  pains  to 
keep  up  the  appearance  of  a trifler.  A bril- 
liant critic  has  made  a lively  and  amusing  at- 
tack on  this  alleged  peculiarity.  “ If  the 
truth  must  be  told,”  says  Sydney  Smith, 
“ our  viscount  is  somewhat  of  an  impostor. 
Everything  about  him  seems  to  betoken  care- 
less desolation  ; any  one  would  suppose  from 
his  manner  that  he  was  playing  at  chuck- 
farthing  with  human  happiness  ; that  he  was 
always  on  the  heel  of  pastime  ; that  he  would 
giggle  away  the  Great  Charter,  and  decide 
by  the  method  of  teetotum  whether  my  lords 
the  bishops  should  or  should  not  retain  their 
seats  in  the  House  of  Lords.  All  this  is  but 
the  mere  vanity  of  surprising,  and  making  us 
believe  that  he  can  play  with  kingdoms  as 
other  men  can  with  ninepins.  ...  I am 
sorry  to  hurt  any  man’s  feelings,  and  to 
brush  away  the  magnificent  fabric  of  levity 
and  gayety  he  has  reared  ; but  I accuse  our 
minister  of  honesty  and  diligence ; I deny 
that  he  is  careless  or  rash  : he  is  nothing 
more  than  a man  of  good  understanding  and 
good  principle  disguised  in  the  eternal  and 
somewhat  wearisome  affectation  of  a politi- 
cal roue.  ’ ’ 

Such  a masquerading  might  perhaps  have 
been  excusable,  or  even  attractive,  in  the  case 
of  a man  of  really  brilliant  and  commanding 
talents.  Lookers-on  are  always  rather  apt  to 
be  fascinated  by  the  spectacle  of  a man  of 
well  recognized  strength  and  force  of  charac- 
ter playing  for  the  moment  the  part  of  an  in- 
dolent trifler.  The  contrast  is  charming  in  a 
brilliant  Prince  Hal  or  such  a Sardanapalus 
as  Byron  drew.  In  our  own  time  a consider- 
able amount  of  the  popularity  of  Lord  Pal- 
merston was  inspired  by  the  amusing  antag- 
onism betweenliis  assumed  levity  and  hiswell- 
known  force  of  intellect  and  strength  of  will. 
But  in  Lord  Melbourne’s  case  the  affectation 
had  no  such  excuse  or  happy  effect.  He  was 
not  by  any  means  a Palmerston.  He  was 
only  fitted  to  rule  in  the  quietest  times.  He 
was  a poor  speaker,  utterly  unable  to  en- 
counter the  keen  penetrating  criticisms  of 
Lyndhurst  or  the  vehement  and  remorseless 
invectives  of  Brougham.  Debates  were  then 
conducted  with  a bitterness  of  personality  un- 
known, or  at  all  events  very  rarely  known, 
in  our  days.  Even  in  the  House  of  Lords 
language  was  often  interchanged  of  the  most 
virulent  hostility.  The  rushing  impetuosity 
and  fury  of  Brougham’s  style  had  done  much 
then  to  inflame  the  atmosphere  which  in  our 
days  is  usually  so  cool  and  moderate. 

It  probably  added  to  the  warmth  of  the  at 
tacks  on  the  Ministry  of  Lord  Melbourne  that 
the  Prime  Minister  was  supposed  to  be  an 
especial  favorite  with  the  young  Queen. 
When  Victoria  came  to  the  throne  the  Duke 
of  Wellington  gave  frank  expression  to  his 
feelings  as  to  the  future  of  his  party.  He 
was  of  opinion  that  the  Tories  would  never 
have  any  chance  with  a young  woman  for 
sovereign.  “I  have  no  small  talk,”  he 
said,  “and  Peel  has  no  manners.”  It  had 
probably  not  occurred  to  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington to  think  that  a woman  could  be  capa- 
ble of  as  sound  a constitutional  policy,  and 
could  show  as  little  regard  for  personal  pre- 
dilections in  the  business  of  government  as 
any  man.  All  this,  however,  only  tended  to 
embitter  the  feeling  against  the  Whig  Gov- 
ernment. Lord  Melbourne’s  constant  attend- 
ance on  the  young  Queen  was  regarded 


with  keen  jealousy  and  dissatisfaction.  Ac- 
cording to  some  critics  the  Prime  Minister 
was  endeavoring  to  inspire  her  with  all  his 
own  gay  heedlessness  of  character  and  tem- 
perament. According  to  others,  Lord  Mel- 
bourne’s purpose  was  to  make  himself  agree- 
able and  indispensable  to  the  Queen  ; to  sur- 
round her  with  his  friends,  relations,  and 
creatures,  and  thus  to  get  a lifelong  hold  of 
power  in  England,  in  defiance  of  political 
changes  and  parties.  It  is  curious  now  to 
look  back  on  much  that  was  said  in  the  po- 
litical and  personal  heats  and  bitternesses  of 
the  time.  If  Lord  Melbourne  had  been  a 
French  mayor  of  the  palace,  whose  real  ob- 
ject was  to  make  himself  virtual  ruler  of  the 
State,  and  to  hold  the  Sovereign  as  a puppet 
in  his  hands,  there  could  not  have  been  great- 
er anger,  fear,  and  jealousy.  Since  that  time 
we  have  all  learned  on  the  very  best  author- 
ity that  Lord  Melbourne  actually  was  him- 
self the  person  to  advise  the  Queen  to  show 
some  confidence  in  the  Tories — to  “ hold  out 
the  olive  branch  a little  to  them,”  as  he  ex- 
pressed it.  He  does  not  appear  to  have  been 
greedy  of  power,  or  to  have  used  any  unfair 
means  of  getting  or  keeping  it.  The  charac- 
ter of  the  young  Sovereign  seems  to  have  im- 
pressed him  deeply.  His  real  or  affected 
levity  gave  way  to  a genuine  and  lasting  de- 
sire to  make  her  life  as  happy,  and  her  reign 
as  successful,  as  he  could.  The  Queen  al- 
ways felt  the  warmest  affection  and  gratitude 
for  him,  and  showed  it  long  after  the  public 
had  given  up  the  suspicion  that  she  could  be 
a puppet  in  the  hands  of  a minister. 

Still  it  is  certain  that  the  Queen’s  Prime 
Minister  was  by  no  means  a popular  man  at 
the  time  of  her  accession.  Even  observers 
who  had  no  political  or  personal  interest 
whatever  in  the  conditions  of  cabinets  were 
displeased  to  see  the  opening  of  the  new  reign 
so  much  to  all  appearance  under  the  influence 
of  one  who  either  was  or  tried  to  be  a mere 
lounger.  The  deputations  went  away  of- 
fended and  disgusted  when  Lord  Melbourne 
played  with  feathers  or  dandled  sofa-cush- 
ions in  their  presence.  The  almost  fierce  en- 
ergy and  strenuousness  of  a manlike  Brough- 
am showed  in  overwhelming  contrast  to  the 
happy-go-lucky  airs  and  graces  of  the  Pre- 
mier. It  is  likely  that  there  was  quite  as 
much  of  affectation  in  the  one  case  as  in  the 
other  ; but  the  affectation  of  a devouring  zeal 
for  the  public  service  told  at  least  far  better 
than  the  other  in  the  heat  and  stress  of  de- 
bate. When  the  new  reign  began  the  Min- 
istry had  two  enemies  or  critics  in  the  House 
of  Lords  of  the  most  formidable  character. 
Either  alone  would  have  been  a trouble  to  a 
minister  of  far  stronger  mould  than  Lord 
Melbourne  ; but  circumstances  threw  them 
both  for  the  moment  into  a chance  alliance 
against  him. 

One  of  these  was  Lord  Brougham.  No 
stronger  and  stranger  a figure  than  his  is  de- 
scribed in  the  modern  history  of  England. 
He  was  gifted  with  the  most  varied  and 
striking  talents,  and  with  a capacity  for  labor 
which  sometimes  seemed  almost  superhuman. 
Not  merely  had  he  the  capacity  for  labor, 
but  he  appeared  to  have  a positive  passion 
for  work.  His  restless  energy  seemed  as  if 
it  must  stretch  itself  out  on  every  side  seeking 
new  fields  of  conquest.  The  study  that  was 
enough  to  occupy  the  whole  time  and  wear 
out  the  frame  of  other  men  was  only  recrea- 
tion to  him.  He  might  have  been  de- 
scribed as  one  possessed  by  a very  demon  of 
work.  His  physical  strength  never  gave 
way.  His  high  spirits  never  deserted  him. 
His  self-confidence  was  boundless.  He 
thought  he  knew  everything  and  could  do 
everything  better  than  any  other  man.  He 
delighted  in  giving  evidence  that  he  under- 
stood the  business  of  the  specialist  better 
than  the  specialist  himself,  liis  vanity  svas 
overweening,  and  made  him  ridiculous  almost 
as  often  and  as  much  as  his  genius  made  him 
admired.  The  comic  literature  of  more  than  a 
generation  had  no  subject  more  fruitful  than 


the  vanity  and  restlessness  of  Lord  Brough- 
am. He  was  beyond  doubt  a great  Parlia- 
mentary orator.  His  style  was  too  diffuse 
and  sometimes  too  uncouth  to  suit  a day  like 
our  own, when  form  counts  for  more  than  sub- 
stance, when  passion  seems  out  of  place  in 
debate,  and  not  to  exaggerate  is  far  more  the 
object  than  to  try  to  be  great.  Brougham’s 
action  was  wild,  and  sometimes  even  furi- 
ous ; his  gestures  were  singularly  ungrace- 
ful ; his  manners  were  grotesque  ; but  of  his 
power  over  his  hearers  there  could  be  no 
doubt.  That  power  remained  with  him  un- 
til a far  later  date  ; and  long  after  the  years 
when  men  usually  continue  to  take  part  in 
political  debate,  Lord  Brougham  could  be 
impassioned,  impressive,  and  even  over- 
whelming. He  was  not  an  orator  of  the 
highest  class  : his  speeches  have  not  stood 
the  test  of  time.  Apart  from  the  circum- 
stances of  the  hour  and  the  personal  power 
of  the  speaker,  they  could  hardly  arouse  any 
great  delight,  or  even  interest ; for  they  are 
by  no  means  models  of  English  style,  and 
they  have  little  of  that  profound  philosophi- 
cal interest,  that  pregnancy  of  thought  and 
meaning,  and  that  splendor  of  eloquence, 
which  make  the  speeches  of  Burke  always 
classic,  and  even  in  a certain  sense  always 
popular  among  us.  In  truth  no  man  could 
have  done  with  abiding  success  all  the  things 
which  Brougham  did  successfully  for  the 
hour.  On  law,  on  politics,  on  literature,  on 
languages,  on  science,  on  art,  on  industrial 
and  commercial  enterprise,  he  professed  to 
pronounce  with  the  authority  of  a teacher. 
“If  Brougham  knew  a little  of  law,”  said 
O’Connell  when  the  former  became  Lord 
Chancellor,  “he  would  know  a little  of 
everything.”  The  anecdote  is  told  in  an- 
other way  too,  which  perhaps  makes  it  even 
more  piquant.  “ The  new  Lord  Chancellor 
knows  a little  of  everything  in  the  world — 
even  of  law.” 

Brougham’s  was  an  excitable  and  self-assert- 
ing nature.  He  had  during  many  years  shown 
himself  an  embodied  influence,  a living 
speaking  force  in  the  promotion  of  great  po- 
litical and  social  reforms.  If  his  talents  were 
great,  if  his  personal  vanity  was  immense, 
let  it  be  said  that  his  services  to  the  cause  of 
human  freedom  and  education  were  simply 
inestimable.  As  an  opponent  of  slavery  in 
the  colonies,  as  an  advocate  of  political  re- 
form at  home,  of  law  reform,  of  popular  ed- 
ucation, of  religious  equality,  he  had  worked 
with  indomitable  zeal,  with  resistless  pas- 
sion, and  with  splendid  success.  But  his 
career  passed  through  two  remarkable  chan- 
ges which  to  a great  extent  interfered  with 
the  full  efficacy  of  his  extraordinary  powers. 
The  first  was  when  from  popular  tribune  and 
reformer  he  became  Lord  Chancellor  in 
1830  ; the  second  was  when  he  was  left  out 
of  office  on  the  reconstruction  of  the  Whig 
Ministry  in  April,  1835,  and  he  passed  for  the 
remainder  of  his  life  into  the  position  of  an 
independent  or  unattached  critic  of  the 
measures  and  policy  of  other  men.  It  has 
never  been  clearly  known  why  the  Whigs  so 
suddenly  threw  over  Brougham.  The  com- 
mon belief  is  that  his  eccentricities  and  his 
almost  savage  temper  made  him  intolerable 
in  a cabinet.  It  has  been  darkly  hinted  that 
for  a while  his  intellect  was  actually  under  a 
cloud,  as  people  said  that  of  Chatham  was 
during  a momentous  season. 

Lord  Brougham  was  not  a man  likely  to 
forget  or  forgive  the  wrong  which  he  must 
have  believed  that  he  had  sustained  at  the 
hands  of  the  Whigs.  He  became  the  fiercest 
and  most  formidable  of  Lord  Melbourne’s 
hostile  critics. 

The  other  opponent  who  has  been  spoken 
of  was  Lord  Lyndhurst.  Lord  Lyndhurst 
resembled  Lord  Brougham  in  the  length  of 
his  career  and  in  capacity  for  work,  if  in 
nothing  else.  Lyndhurst,  who  was  born  in 
Boston  the  year  before  the  tea  ships  were 
boarded  in  that  harbor  and  their  cargoes 
flung  into  the  water,  has  been  heard  address- 


6 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


ing  the  House  of  Lords  in  all  vigor  and 
fluency  by  men  who  are  yet  far  from  middle 
age.  He  was  one  of  the  most  effective  Par- 
liamentary debaters  of  a time  which  has 
known  such  men  as  Peel  and  Palmerston, 
Gladstone  and  Disraeli,  Bright  and  Cobden. 
His  style  was  singularly  and  even  severely 
clear,  direct,  and  pure  ; his  manner  was  easy 
and  graceful ; his  voice  remarkably  sweet 
and  strong.  Nothing  could  have  been  in 
greater  contrast  than  his  clear,  correct,  ner- 
vous argument,  and  the  impassioned  invec- 
tives and  overwhelming  strength  of  Brough- 
am. Lyndhurst  had,  as  has  been  said,  an 
immense  capacity  for  work,  when  the  work 
had  to  be  done  ; but  his  natural  tendency  was 
as  distinctly  towards  indolence  as  Brough- 
am’s was  towards  unresting  activity.  Nor 
were  Lyndhurst’s  political  convictions  ever 
very  clear.  By  the  habitude  of  associating 
with  the  Tories,  and  receiving  office  from 
them,  and  speaking  for  them,  and  attacking 
their  enemies  with  argument  and  sarcasm, 
Lyndhurst  finally  settled  down  into  all  the 
ways  of  Toryism.  But  nothing  in  his  varied 
history  showed  that  he  had  any  particular 
preference  that  wTay  ; and  there  were  many 
passages  in  his  career  when  it  would  seem  as 
if  a turn  of  chance  decided  what  path  of 
political  life  he  was  to  follow.  As  a keen 
debater  he  was  perhaps  hardly  ever  excelled 
in  Parliament ; but  he  had  neither  the  pas- 
sion nor  the  genius  of  the  orator  ; and  his 
capacity  was  narrow  indeed  in  its  range  when 
compared  with  the  astonishing  versatility  and 
omnivorous  mental  activity  of  Brougham. 
As  a speaker  he  was  always  equal.  He 
seemed  to  know  no  varying  moods  or  fits  of 
mental  lassitude.  Whenever  he  spoke  he 
reached  at  once  the  same  high  level  as  a de- 
bater. The  very  fact  may  in  itself  perhaps 
be  taken  as  conclusive  evidence  that  he  was 
not  an  orator.  The  higher  qualities  of  the 
orator  are  no  more  to  be  summoned  at  will 
than  those  of  the  poet. 

These  two  men  were  without  any  compari- 
son the  two  leading  debaters  in  the  House  of 
Lords.  Lord  Melbourne  had  not  at  that  time 
in  the  Upper  House  a single  man  of  first  class 
or  even  of  second  class  debating  powder  on  the 
bench  of  the  Ministry.  An  able  writer  has 
well  remarked  that  the  position  of  the  Min- 
istry in  the  House  of  Lords  might  be  compar- 
ed to  that  of  a water-logged  -wreck  into  which 
enemies  from  all  quarters  are  pouring  their 
broadsides. 

The  accession  of  the  Queen  made  it  necessary 
that  a new  Parliament  should  be  summoned. 
The  struggle  between  parties  among  the  con- 
stituencies was  very  animated,  and  was  car- 
ried on  in  some  instances  with  a recourse  to 
manoeuvre  and  stratagem  such  as  in  our  time 
would  hardly  be  possible.  The  result  was 
not  a very  marked  alteration  in  the  condition 
of  parties  ; but  on  the  whole  the  advantage 
remained  with  the  Tories.  Somewhere  about 
this  time,  it  may  be  remarked,  the  use  of  the 
word  “ Conservative”  to  describe  the  latter 
political  party  first  came  into  fashion.  Mr. 

Wilson  Croker  is  credited  with  the  honor  of 
having  first  employed  the  word  in  that  sense. 
In  an  article  in  the  “ Quarterly  Review,” 
come  years  before,  he  spoke  of  being  de- 
cidedly and  conscientiously  attached  “ to 
what  is  called  the  Tory,  but  which  might 
with  more  propriety  be  called  the  Conserva- 
tive party.”  During  the  elections  for  the 
new  Parliament,  Lord  John  Russell,  speaking 
at  a public  dinner  at  Stroud,  made  allusion  to 
the  new  name  which  his  opponents  were  be- 
ginning to  affect  for  their  pai-ty.  “ If  that,” 
he  said,  “ is  the  name  that  pisses  them,  if 
they  say  that  the  old  distinction  of  Whig  and 
Tory  should  no  longer  bo  kept  up.  I am 
ready,  in  opposition  to  their  n-  cue  of  Conser- 
vative, to  take  the  name  of  Reformer,  and  to 
Stand  by  that  opposition." 

The  Tories  or  Conservatives,  then,  had  a 
slight  gain  as  the  result  of  the  appeal  to  the 
country.  The  new  Parliament  on  j 1 - as- 
sembling seems  to  have  gathered  in  the  Com- 


mons an  unusually  large  number  of  gifted 
and  promising  men.  There  was  something 
too  of  a literary  stamp  about  it,  a fact  not 
much  to  be  observed  in  Parliaments  of  a date 
nearer  to  the  present  time.  Mr.  Grote,  the 
historian  of  Greece,  sat  for  the  city  of  London. 
The  late  Lord  Lytton,  then  Mr.  Edward  Lyt- 
ton  Bulwer,  had  a seat,  an  advanced  Radical 
at  that  day.  Mr.  Disraeli  came  then  into 
Parliament  for  the  first  time.  Charles  Bul- 
ler,  full  of  high  spirits,  brilliant  humor,  and 
the  very  inspiration  of  keen  good  sense, 
seemed  on  the  sure  way  to  that  career  of  re- 
nown which  a premature  death  cut  short. 
Sir  William  Molesworth  was  an  excellent 
type  of  the  school  which  in  later  days  was 
called  the  Philosophical  Radical.  Another 
distinguished  member  of  the  same  school, 
Mr.  Roebuck,  had  lost  his  seat,  and  was  for 
the  moment  an  outsider.  Mr.  Gladstone  had 
been  already  five  years  in  Parliament.  The 
late  Lord  Carlisle,  then  Lord  Morpeth,  was 
looked  upon  as  a graceful  specimen  of  the  lite- 
rary and  artistic  young  nobleman,  who  also 
cultivates  a little  politics  for  his  intellectual 
amusement.  Lord  John  Russell  had  but  lately 
begun  his  career  as  leader  of  the  House  of 
Commons.  Lord  Palmerston  was  Foreign  Sec- 
retary, hut  had  not  even  then  got  the  credit 
of  the  great  ability  which  he  possessed.  Not 
many  years  before  Mr.  Greville  spoke  of  him 
as  a man  who  “had  been  twenty  years  in 
office  and  had  never  distinguished  himself 
before.”  Mr.  Greville  expresses  a mild  sur- 
prise at  the  high  opinion  which  persons  who 
knew  Lord  Palmerston  intimately  were 
pleased  to  entertain  as  to  his  ability  and  his 
capacity  for  work.  Only  those  who  knew 
him  very  intimately  indeed  had  any  idea  of 
the  capacity  for  governing  Parliament  and 
the  country  which  he  was  soon  afterwards  to 
display.  Sir  Robert  Peel  was  leader  of  the 
Conservative  party.  Lord  Stanley,  the  late 
Lord  Derby,'  was  still  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. He  had  not  long  before  broken  de- 
finitively with  the  Whigs  on  the  question  of 
the  Irish  ecclesiastical  establishment,  and  had 
passed  over  to  that  Conservative  party  of 
which  he  afterwards  became  the  most  influ- 
ential leader,  and  the  most  powerful  Parlia- 
mentary orator.  O’Connell  and  Sheil  repre- 
sented the  eloquence  of  the  Irish  national 
party.  Decidedly  the  House  of  Commons 
first  elected  during  Queen  Victoria’s  reign 
was  strong  in  eloquence  and  talent.  Only 
two  really  great  speakers  have  arisen,  in  the 
forty  years  that  followed, who  were  not  mem- 
bers of  Parliament  at  that  time,  Mr.  Cobden 
and  Mr.  Bright.  Mr.  Cobden  had  come  for- 
ward as  a candidate  for  the  borough  of 
Stockport,  but  was  not  successful,  aud  did 
not  obtain  a seat  in  Parliament  until  four 
years  after.  It  was  only  by  what  may  be 
called  an  accident  that  Macaulay  and  Mr. 
Roebuck  were  not  in  the  Parliament  of  1837. 
It  is  fair  to  say,  therefore,  that,  except  for 
Cobden  and  Bright,  the  subsequent  forty 
years  have  added  no  first-class  name  to  the 
records  of  Parliamentary  eloquence. 

The  Ministry'  was  not  very  strong  in  the 
House  of  Commons.  Its  conditions,  indeed, 
hardly  allowed  it  to  feel  itself  strong  even  if  it 
had  had  more  powerful  representatives  in 
either  house.  Its  adherents  were  but  loosely 
held  together.  The  more  ardent  reformers 
were  disappointed  with  ministers  ; the  Free 
Trade  movement  was  rising  into  distinct  bulk 
and  proportions,  and  threatened  to  be  for- 
midably independent  of  mere  party  ties. 
The  Government  had  to  rely  a good  deal  on 
the  precarious  support  of  Mr.  O’Connell  and 
his  followers.  They  were  not  rich  in  debat- 
ing talent  in  the  Commons  any  more  than 
in  the  Lords.  Sir  Robert  Peel,  the  leader 
of  t he  Opposition,  was  by  far  the  mostpower- 
ful  man  in  the  House  of  Common-.  Add- 
ed to  his  groat  qualities  as  an  administrator 
and  a Parliamentary  debater,  be  had  the  vir- 
tue, then  very  rare  among  Conservative  states- 
men, of  being  a sound  and  clear  financier, 
with  a good  grasp  of  the  fundamental  princi- 


ples of  political  economy.  His  high  austere 
character  made  him  respected  by  opponents 
as  well  as  by  friends.  He  had  not  perhaps 
many  intimate  friends.  His  temperament 
was  cold,  or  at  least  its  heat  was  self-con- 
tained ; lie  threw  out  no  genial  glow  to  those 
around  him.  He  was  by  nature  a reserved 
and  shy  man,  in  whose  manners  shyness 
took  the  form  of  pompousness  and  coldness. 
Something  might  be  said  of  him  like  that 
which  Richter  said  of  Schiller  : he  was  to 
strangers  stony  and  like  a precipice  from 
which  it  was  their  instinct  to  spring  back. 
It  is  certain  that  he  had  warm  and  generous 
feelings,  but  his  very  sensitiveness  only  led 
him  to  disguise  them.  The  contrast  between 
his  emotions  and  his  lack  of  demonstrative- 
ness created  in  him  a constant  artificiality 
which  often  seemed  mere  awkwardness.  It 
was  in  the  House  of  Commons  that  his  real 
genius  and  character  displayed  themselves. 
The  atmosphere  of  debate  was  to  him  what 
Macaulay  says  wine  was  to  Addison,  the  in- 
fluence which  broke  the  spell  under  which 
his  fine  intellect  seemed  otherwise  to  lie  im- 
prisoned. Peel  was  a perfect  master  of  the 
House  of  Commons.  He  was  as  great  an 
orator  as  any  man  could  be  who  addresses 
himself  to  the  House  of  Commons,  its  ways 
and  its  purposes  alone.  He  went  as  near  per- 
haps to  the  rank  of  a great  orator  as  any  one 
can  go  who  is  but  little  gifted  with  imagina- 
tion. Oratory  has  been  well  described  as  the 
fusion  of  reason  and  passion.  Passion  al- 
ways carries  something  of  the  imaginative 
along  with  it.  Sir  Robert  Peel  had  little  im- 
agination, and  almost  none  of  that  passion 
which  in  eloquence  sometimes  supplies  its 
place.  His  style  was  clear,  strong,  and 
stately  ; full  of  various  argument  and  apt  il- 
lustration drawn  from  hooks  and  from  the 
world  of  politics  and  commerce.  He  follow- 
ed a difficult  argument  home  to  its  utter  con- 
clusions ; and  if  it  had  in  it  any  lurking  al- 
iacy  he  brought  out  the  weakness  into  the 
clearest  light,  often  with  a happy  touch  of 
humor  and  quiet  sarcasm.  His  speeches 
might  be  described  as  the  very  perfection  of 
good  sense  and  high  principle  clothed  in  the 
most  impressive  language.  But  they  were 
something  more  peculiar  than  this,  for  they 
were  so  constructed,  in  tlieir  argument  and 
their  style  alike,  as  to  touch  the  very  core  of 
the  intelligence  of  the  House  of  Commons 
They  told  of  the  feelings  and  the  inspiratior 
of  Parliament  as  the  ballad-music  of  a coun 
try  tells  of  its  scenery  and  its  national  sent! 
ments. 

Lord  Stanley  was  a far  more  energetic 
and  impassioned  speaker  than  Sir  Rober: 
Peel,  and  perhaps  occasionally,  in  his  late” 
career,  came  now  and  then  nearer  to  Iht 
height  of  genuine  oratory.  But  Lord  Stan- 
ley was  little  more  than  a splendid  Parlia 
mentary  partisan,  even  when,  long  after 
he  was  Prime  Minister  of  England.  He  liac 
very  little  indeed  of  that  class  of  informa 
tion  which  the  modern  world  requires  of  its 
statesmen  and  leaders.  Of  political  econ- 
omy, of  finance,  of  the  development  and 
the  discoveries  of  modern  science,  he  knew 
almost  as  little  as  it  is  possible  for  an  able 
and  energetic  man  to  know  who  lives  in  the 
throng  of  active  life  and  hears  what  people 
are  talking  of  around  him.  He  once  said 
good-humoredly  of  himself,  that  he  was 
brought  up  in  the  pre-scientific  period.  His 
scholarship  was  mereljr  such  training  in  the 
classic  languages  as  allowed  him  to  have  a 
full  literary  appreciation  of  the  beauty  of 
Greek  and  Roman  literature.  He  had  no  real 
and  deep  knowledge  of  the  history  of  the 
Creek  and  the  Roman  people,  nor  probably 
did  he  at  all  appreciate  the  great  difference 
between  the  spirit  of  Roman  and  of  Greek 
civilization,  lie  had,  in  fact,  what  would 
have  been  called  at  an  earlier  day  an  elegant 
scholarship  ; he  had  a considerable  knowl- 
edge of  the  politics  of  his  time  iu  most  Euro- 
pean countries,  an  energetic  intrepid  spirit, 
and  with  him,  as  Macaulay  well  said,  the 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


7 


science  of  Parliamentary  debate  seemed  to 
be  an  instinct.  There  was  no  speaker  on  the 
ministerial  benches  at  that  time  who  could 
for  a moment  be  compared  with  him. 

Lord  John  Russell,  who  had  the  leadership 
of  the  party  in  the  House  of  Commons,  was 
really  a much  stronger  man  than  he  seemed 
to  be.  He  had  a character  for  dauntless 
courage  and  confidence  among  his  friends  ; 
for  boundless  self-conceit  among  his  enemies. 
Every  one  remembers  Sydney  Smith’s  famous 
illustrations  of  Lord  John  Russell’s  unlim- 
ited faith  in  his  own  power  of  achievement. 
Thomas  Moore  addressed  a poem  to  him  at 
one  time,  when  Lord  John  Russell  _ thought 
or  talked  of  giving  up  political  life,  in  which 
he  appeals  to  “thy  genius,  thy  youth,  and 
thy  name,”  declares  that  the  instinct  of  the 
young  statesman  is  the  same  as  “ the  eaglet’s 
to  soar  with  his  eyes  on  the  sun,”  and  im- 
plores him  not  to  “ think  for  an  instant  thy 
country  can  spare  such  a light  from  her 
darkening  horizon  as  thou.”  Later  observ- 
ers, to  whom  Lord  John  Russell  appeared 
probably  remarkable  for  a cold  and  formal 
style  as  a debater,  and  for  lack  of  originating 
power  as  a statesman,  may  find  it  difficult  to 
reconcile  the  poet’s  picture  with  their  own 
impressions  of  the  reality.  But  it  is  certain 
that  at  one  time  the  reputation  of  Lord  John 
Russell  was  that  of  a rather  reckless  man  of 
genius,  a sort  of  Whig  Shelley.  He  had  in 
truth  much  less  genius  than  his  friends  and 
admirers  believed,  and  a great  deal  more  of 
practical  strength  than  either  friends  or  foes 
gave  him  credit  for.  He  became,  not  indeed 
an  orator,  but  a very  keen  debater,  who  was 
especially  effective  in  a cold,  irritating  sar- 
casm which  penetrated  the  weakness  of  an 
opponent’s  argument  like  some  dissolving 
acid.  In  the  poem  from  which  we  have 
quoted,  Moore  speaks  of  the  eloquence  of 
his  noble  friend  as  ‘ ‘ not  like  those  rills  from 
a height,  which  sparkle  and  foam  and  in 
vapor  are  o’er  ; but  a current  that  works  out 
its  way  into  light  through  the  filtering  re- 
cesses of  thought  and  of  lore.”  Allowing 
for  the  exaggeration  of  friendship  and  poet- 
ry, this  is  not  a bad  description  of  what  Lord 
John  Russell’s  style  became  at  its  best.  The 
thin  bright  stream  of  argument  worked  its 
way  slowly  out,  and  contrived  to  wear  a path 
for  itself  through  obstacles  which  at  first  the 
looker-on  might  have  felt  assured  it  never 
could  penetrate.  Lord  John  Russell’s  swords- 
manship was  the  swordsmanship  of  Saladin, 
and  not  that  of  stout  King  Richard.  But  it 
was  very  effective  sword-play  in  its  own  way. 
Our  English  system  of  government  by  party 
makes  the  history  of  Parliament  seem  like 
that  of  a succession  of  great  political  duels. 
Two  men  stand  constantly  confronted  during 
a series  of  years,  one  of  whom  is  at  the  head 
of  the  Government,  while  the  other  is  at  the 
head  of  the  Opposition.  They  change  places 
with  each  victory.  The  conqueror  goes  into 
office  ; the  conquered  into  opposition.  This 
is  not  the  place  to  discuss  either  the  merits 
or  the  probable  duration  of  the  principle  of 
government  by  party  ; it  is  enough  to  say 
here  that  it  undoubtedly  gives  a very  ani- 
mated and  varied  complexion  to  our  political 
struggles,  and  invests  them  indeed  with  much 
of  the  glow  and  passion  of  actual  warfare. 
It  has  often  happened  that  the  two  leading 
opponents  are  men  of  intellectual  and  orator- 
ical powers  so  fairly  balanced  that  their  fol- 
lowers may  well  dispute  among  themselves 
a3  to  the  superiority  of  their  respective  chiefs, 
and  that  the  public  in  general  may  become 
divided  into  two  schools  not  merely  political 
but  even  critical,  according  to  their  partiality 
for  one  or  the  other.  We  still  dispute  as  to 
whether  Fox  or  Pitt  was  the  greater  leader, 
the  greater  orator  ; it  is  probable  that  for  a 
long  time  to  come  the  same  question  will  be 
asked  by  political  students  about  Gladstone 
and  Disraeli.  For  many  years  Lord  John  Rus- 
sell and  Sir  Robert  Peel  stood  thus  opposed. 
They  will  often  come  into  contrast  and  com- 
parison in  these  pages,  For  the  present  it  is 


enough  to  say  that  Peel  had  by  far  the  more 
original  mind,  and  that  Lord  John  Russell 
never  obtained  so  great  an  influence  over  the 
House  of  Commons  as  that  which  his  rival 
long  enjoyed.  The  heat  of  political  passion  af- 
terwards induced  a bitter  critic  to  accuse  Peel 
of  lack  of  originality  because  he  assimilated 
readily  and  turned  to  account  the  ideas  of 
other  men.  Not  merely  the  criticism,  but 
the  principle  on  which  it  was  founded,  was 
altogether  wrong.  It  ought  to  be  left  to  chil- 
dren to  suppose  that  nothing  is  original  but 
that  which  we  make  up,  as  the  childish 
phrase  is,  “out  of  our  own  heads.”  Orig- 
inality in  politics,  as  in  every  field  of  art, 
consists  in  the  use  and  application  of  the 
ideas  which  we  get  or  are  given  to  us.  The 
greatest  proof  Sir  Robert  Peel  ever  gave  of 
high  and  genuine  statesmanship  was  in  his 
recognition  that  the  time  had  come  to  put 
into  practical  legislation  the  principles  which 
Cobden  and  Yilliers  and  Bright  had  been 
advocating  in  the  House  of  Commons.  Lord 
John  Russell  was  a born  reformer.  He  had 
sat  at  the  feet  of  Fox.  He  was  cradled  in 
the  principles  of  Liberalism.  He  held  faith- 
fully to  his  creed  ; he  was  one  of  its  boldest 
and  keenest  champions.  He  had  great  ad- 
vantages over  Peel,  in  the  mere  fact  that  he 
had  begun  his  education  in  a more  enlightened 
school.  But  he  wanted  passion  quite  as  much 
as  Peel  did,  and  remained  still  farther  than 
Peel  below  the  level  of  the  genuine  orator. 
Russell,  as  we  have  said,  had  not  long  held 
the  post  of  leader  of  the  House  of  Commons 
when  the  first  Parliament  of  Queen  Victoria 
assembled.  He  was  still,  in  a manner,  on 
trial ; and  even  among  his  friends,  perhaps 
especially  among  his  friends,  there  were  whis- 
pers that  his  confidence  in  himself  was  greater 
than  his  capacity  for  leadership. 

After  the  chiefs  of  Ministry  and  of  Oppo- 
sition, the  most  conspicuous  figure  in  the 
House  of  Commons  was  the  colossal  form  of 
O’Connell,  the  great  Irish  agitator,  of  whom 
we  shall  hear  a good  deal  more.  Among  the 
foremost  orators  of  the  House  at  that  time 
was  O’Connell’s  impassioned  lieutenant, 
Richard  Lalor  Sheil.  It  is  curious  how  little 
is  now  remembered  of  Sheil,  whom  so  many 
well-qualified  authorities  declared  to  be  a 
genuine  orator.  Lord  Beaconsfield,  in  one  of 
his  novels,  speaks  of  Sheil’s  eloquence  in 
terms  of  the  highest  praise,  and  disparages 
Canning.  It  is  but  a short  time  since  Mr. 
Gladstone  selected  Sheil  as  one  of  three  re- 
markable illustrations  of  great  success  as  a 
speaker  achieved  in  spite  of  serious  defects 
of  voice  and  delivery  ; the  other  two  ex- 
amples being  Dr.  Chalmers  and  Dr.  New- 
man. Mr.  Gladstone  described  Sheil’s  voice 
as  like  nothing  but  the  sound  produced  by 
“ a tin  kettle  battered  about  from  place  to 
place,”  knocking  first  against  one  side  and 
then  against  another.  “In  anybody  else,” 
Mr.  Gladstone  went  on  to  say,  “ 1 would 
not,  if  it  had  been  in  my  choice,  like  to  have 
listened  to  that  voice  ; but  in  him  I would 
not  have  changed  it,  for  it  was  part  of  a 
most  remarkable  whole,  and  nobody  ever  felt 
it  painful  while  listening  to  it.  He  was  a 
great  orator,  and  an  orator  of  much  prepa- 
ration, I believe,  carried  even  to  word3,  with 
a very  vivid  imagination  and  an  enormous 
power  of  language,  ami  of  strong  feeling. 
There  was  a peculiar  character,  a sort  of  half 
wildness  in  his  aspect.  and  delivery ; his 
whole  figure,  and  his  delivery  and  his  voice 
and  his  matter  were  all  in  such  perfect  keep- 
ing with  one  another  that  the v formed  a great 
Parliamentary  picture ; and  although  it  Is 
row  thirty-five  years  since  I heard  Mr.  Sheil, 
tny  it  'ollection  of  him  is  just  as  vivid  as  if  I 
had  b'  cn  listening  to  him  to-day.”  This 
surely  is  a pi  lure  of  a great  orator,  as  Mr. 
Gladstone  say  Sheil  was.  Nor  is  it  easy  to 
understand  how  a man  v.  it  bout  being  a great 
orator  could  have  persuaded  two  experts  of 
such  very  different  schools,  as  Mr.  Glad- 
stone and  Mr.  Disraeli,  that  he  deserved 
such  a name.  Yet  the  after  years  have  in  » 


curious  but  unmistakable  way  denied  the 
claims  of  Sheil.  Perhaps  it  is  because,  if  he 
really  was  an  orator,  he  was  that  and  noth- 
ing more,  that  our  practical  age,  finding  no 
mark  left  by  him  on  Parliament  or  politics, 
has  declined  to  take  much  account  even  of 
his  eloquence.  His  career  faded  away  into 
second-class  ministerial  office,  and  closed  at 
last,  somewhat  prematurely,  in  the  little  court 
of  Florence,  where  he  was  sent  as  the  repre- 
sentative of  England.  He  is  worth  mention- 
ing here  because  he  had  the  promise  of  a 
splendid  reputation  ; because  the  charm  of 
his  eloquence  evidently  lingered  long  in  the 
memories  of  those  to  whom  it  was  once  fami- 
liar, and  because  his  is  one  of  the  most  bril- 
liant illustrations  of  that  career  of  Irish  agita- 
tor, which  begins  in  stormy  opposition  to 
English  government,  and  subsides  after  a 
while  into  meek  recognition  of  its  title  and 
adoption  of  its  ministerial  uniform.  O’Con- 
nell we  have  passed  over  for  the  present,  be- 
cause we  shall  hear  of  him  again  ; but  of 
Sheil  it  is  not  necessary  that  we  should  hear 
any  more. 

This  was  evidently  a remarkable  Parlia- 
ment, with  Russell  for  the  leader  of  one 
party,  and  Peel  for  the  leader  of  another ; 
with  O’Connell  and  Sheil  as  independent  sup- 
porters of  the  Ministry  ; with  Mr.  Gladstone 
still  comparatively  new  to  public  life,  and  Mr. 
Disraeli  to  address  the  Commons  for  the  first 
time ; with  Palmerston  still  unrecognized 
and  Stanley  lately  gone  over  to  Conserva- 
tism, itself  the  newest  invented  thing  in 
politics  ; with  Grote  and  Bulwer,  and  Joseph 
Hume  and  Charles  Buller  ; and  Ward  and  Vil- 
liers,  Sir  Francis  Burdett  and  Smith  O’Brien, 
and  the  Radical  Alcibiades  of  Finsbury, 
“ Tom”  Duncombe. 

CHAPTER  III. 

CANADA  AND  LORD  DURHAM. 

The  first  disturbance  to  the  quiet  and 
good  promise  of  the  new  reign  came  from 
Canada.  The  Parliament  which  we  have 
described  met  for  the  first  time  on  November 
20,  1837,  and  was  to  have  been  adjourned  to 
February  1,  1838  ; but  the  news  which  be- 
gan to  arrive  from  Canada  was  so  alarming, 
that  the  Ministry  were  compelled  to  change 
their  purpose  and  fix  the  reassembling  of  the 
Houses  for  January  16.  The  disturbances 
in  Canada  had  already  broken  out  into  open 
rebellion. 

The  condition  of  Canada  was  very  peculiar. 
Lower  or  Western  Canada  was  inhabited  for 
the  most  part  by  men  of  French  descent,  who 
still  kept  up  in  the  midst  of  an  active  and 
moving  civilization  most  of  the  principles  and 
usages  which  belonged  to  France  before  the 
Revolution.  Even  to  this  day,  after  all  the 
changes,  political  and  social,  that  have  taken 
place,  the  traveller  from  Europe  sees  in  many 
of  the  towns  of  Lower  Canada  an  old-fash- 
ioned France,  such  as  he  had  known  other- 
wise only  in  books  that  tell  of  France  before 
’89.  Nor  is  this  only  in  small  sequestered 
towns  and  villages  which  the  impulses  of 
modern  ways  have  yet  failed  to  reach.  In 
busy  and  trading  Montreal,  with  its  residents 
made  up  of  Englishmen,  Scotchmen,  and 
Americans,  as  well  as  the  men  of  French  de- 
scent, the  visitor  is  more  immediately  con- 
scious of  the  presence  of  what  may  be  called 
an  old-fashioned  Catholicism  than  he  is  ia 
Paris,  or  even  indeed  in  Rome.  In  Quebec, 
a city  which  for  picturesqueness  and  beauty 
of  situation  is  not  equalled  by  Edinburgh  or 
Florence,  the  curious  interest  of  the  place  ig 
further  increased,  the  novelty  of  the  sensa- 
tions it  produces  in  the  visitor  is  made  more 
piquant,  by  the  evidences  he  meets  with  every- 
where, through  its  quaint  and  steepy  streets, 
and  under  its  antiquated  archways,  of  the  ex- 
istence of  a society  which  has  hardly  in 
France  survived  the  Great  Revolution.  At 
(he  opening  of  Queen  Victoria’s  reign,  the 
laidiluted  character  of  this  French  mediaeval- 
ism  was  of  course  much  more  remarkable. 
It  would  doubtless  have  exhibited  itself 


8 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


quietly  enough  if  it  were  absolutely  undi- 
luted. Lower  Canada  would  have  dozed 
away  in  its  sleepy  picturesqueness,  held  fast 
to  its  ancient  ways,  and  allowed  a bustling 
giddy  world,  all  alive  with  commerce  and 
ambition,  and  desire  for  novelty  and  the  ter- 
ribly disturbing  thing  which  unresting  people 
called  progress,  to  rush  on  its  wild  path  un- 
heeded. But  its  neighbors  and  its  newer  citi- 
zens were  not  disposed  to  allow  Lower  Can- 
ada thus  to  rot  itself  in  ease  on  the  decaying 
wharves  of  the  St.  Lawrence  and  the  St. 
Charles.  In  the  large  towns  there  were  act- 
ive traders  from  England  and  other  coun- 
tries, who  were  by  no  means  content  to  put 
up  with  old-world  ways,  and  to  let  the  mag- 
nificent resources  of  the  place  run  to  waste. 
Upper  Canada,  on  the  other  hand,  was  all 
new  as  to  its  population,  and  was  full  of  the 
modern  desire  for  commercial  activity.  Up- 
per Canada  was  peopled  almost  exclusively 
by  inhabitants  from  Great  Britain.  Scotch 
settlers,  with  all  the  energy  and  push  of  their 
country  ; men  from  the  northern  province 
of  Ireland,  who  might  be  described  as  virtu- 
ally Scotch  also,  came  there.  The  emigrant 
from  the  south  of  Ireland  went  to  the  United 
States  because  he  found  there  a country  more 
or  less  hostile  to  England,  and  because  there 
the  Catholic  Church  was  understood  to  be 
flourishing.  The  Ulsterman  went  to  Canada 
as  the  Scotchman  did,  because  he  saw  the 
flag  of  England  flying,  and  the  principle  of 
religious  establishment  which  he  admired  at 
home  still  recognized.  It  is  almost  needless 
to  say  that  Englishmen  in  great  numbers 
were  settled  there,  whose  chief  desire  was  to 
make  the  colony  as  far  as  possible  a copy  of 
the  institutions  of  England.  When  Canada 
was  ceded  to  England  by  France,  as  a con- 
sequence of  the  victories  of  Wolfe,  the  pop- 
ulation was  nearly  all  in  the  lower  province, 
and  therefore  was  nearly  all  of  French  origin. 
Since  the  cession  the  growth  of  the  popula- 
tion of  the  other  province  had  been  surpris- 
ingly rapid,  and  had  been  almost  exclusively 
the  growth,  as  we  have  seen,  of  immigration 
from  Great  Britain,  one  or  two  of  the  col- 
onizing states  of  the  European  continent,  and 
the  American  Republic  itself. 

It  is  easy  to  see  on  the  very  face  of  things 
some  of  the  difficulties  which  must  arise  in 
the  development  of  such  a system.  The 
French  of  Lower  Canada  would  regard  with 
almost  morbid  jealousy  any  legislation  which 
appeared  likely  to  interfere  with  their  ancient 
ways  and  to  give  any  advantage  or  favor  to 
the  populations  of  British  descent.  The  latter 
would  see  injustice  or  feebleness  in  every 
measure  which  did  not  assist  them  in  devel- 
oping their  more  energetic  ideas.  The  home 
Government  in  such  a condition  of  things 
often  has  especial  trouble  with  those  whom 
we  may  call  its  own  people.  Their  very  loy- 
alty to  the  institutions  of  the  old  country 
impels  them  to  be  unreasonable  and  exacting. 
It  is  not  easy  to  make  them  understand  why 
they  should  not  be  at  the  least  encouraged,  if 
not  indeed  actually  enabled,  to  carry  boldly 
out  the  Anglicizing  policy  which  they  clearly 
see  is  to  be  for  the  good  of  the  colony  in  the 
end.  The  government  has  all  the  difficulty 
that  the  mother  of  a household  has  when, 
with  the  best  intentions  and  the  most  consci- 
entious resolve  to  act  impartially,  she  is  call- 
ed upon  to  manage  her  own  children  and  the 
children  of  her  husband’s  former  marriage. 
Every  word  she  says,  every  resolve  she  is  in- 
duced to  acknowledge,  is  liable  to  be  re- 
garded with  jealousy  and  dissatisfaction  on 
the  one  side  as  well  as  on  the  other.  “You 
are  doing  everything  to  favor  your  own  chil- 
dren,” the  one  set  cry  out.  “You  ought 
to  do  something  more  for  your  own  children,  ’ ’ 
is  the  equally  querulous  remonstrance  of  the 
other. 

It  would  have  been  difficult,  therefore,  for 
the  home  Government,  however  wise  and  far- 
seeing  their  policy,  to  make  the  wheels  of  any 
system  run  smoothly  at  once  in  such  a colony 
as  Canada.  But  their  policy  certainly  does 


not  seem  to  have  been  either  wise  or  far-see- 
ing. The  plan  of  government  adopted  looks 
as  if  it  were  especially  devised  to  bring  out 
into  sharp  relief  all  the  antagonisms  that 
were  natural  to  the  existing  state  of  things. 
By  an  Act  called  the  Constitution  of  1791, 
Canada  was  divided  into  two  provinces,  the 
Upper  and  the  Lower.  Each  province  had 
a separate  system  of  government,  consisting 
of  a governor,  an  executive  council  appointed 
by  the  Crown,  and  supposed  in  some  way  to 
resemble  the  Privy  Council  of  this  country  ; 
a legislative  council,  the  members  of  which 
were  appointed  by  the  Crown  for  life  ; and 
a representative  assembly,  the  members  of 
which  were  elected  for  four  years.  At  the 
same  time  the  clergy  reserves  were  established 
by  Parliament.  One  seventh  of  the  waste 
lands  of  the  colony  was  set  aside  for  the 
maintenance  of  the  Protestant  clergy,  a fruit- 
ful source  of  disturbance  aud  ill-feeling. 

When  the  two  provinces  were  divided  in 
1791,  the  intention  was  that  they  should  re- 
main distinct  in  fact  as  well  as  in  name.  It 
was  hoped  that  Lower  Canada  would  remain 
altogether  French,  and  that  Upper  Canada 
would  be  exclusively  English.  Then  it  was 
thought  that  they  might  be  governed  on  their 
separate  systems  as  securely  and  with  as  little 
trouble  as  we  now  govern* the  Mauritius  on 
one  system  and  Malta  on  another. 

Those  who  formed  such  an  idea  do  not 
seem  to  have  taken  any  counsel  with  geogra- 
phy. The  one  fact,  that  Upper  Canada  can 
hardly  be  said  to  have  any  means  of  com- 
munication with  Europe  and  the  whole  East- 
ern world  except  through  Lower  Canada,  or 
else  through  the  United  States,  ought  to  have 
settled  the  question  at  once.  It  was  in  Lower 
Canada  that  the  greatest  difficulties  arose.  A 
constant  antagonism  grew  up  between  the 
majority  of  the  legislative  council,  who  were 
nominees  of  the  Crown,  and  the  majority  of 
the  representative  assembly,  who  were  elected 
by  the  population  of  the  province.  The  home 
Government  encouraged  and  indeed  kept  up 
that  most  odious  and  dangerous  of  all  instru- 
ments for  the  supposed  management  of  a 
colony — a “ British  party”  devoted  to  the  so- 
called  interests  of  the  mother  country,  and 
obedient  to  the  word  of  command  from  their 
masters  and  patrons  at  home.  The  majority 
in  the  legislative  council  constantly  thwarted 
the  resolutions  of  the  vast  majority  of  the 
popular  assembly.  Disputes  arose  as  to  the 
voting  of  supplies.  The  Government  re- 
tained in  their  service  officials  whom  the  rep- 
resentative assembly  had  condemned,  and 
insisted  on  the  right  to  pay  them  their  sala- 
ries out  of  certain  funds  of  the  colony.  The 
representative  assembly  took  to  stopping  the 
supplies,  and  the  Government  claimed  the 
right  to  counteract  this  measure  by  appropri- 
ating to  the  purpose  such  public  moneys  as 
happened  to  be  within  their  reach  at  the 
time.  The  colony — for  indeed  on  these  sub- 
jects the  population  of  Lower  Canada,  right 
or  wrong,  was  so  near  to  being  of  one  mind 
that  we  may  take  the  declarations  of  public 
meetings  as  representing  the  colony  — de- 
manded that  the  legislative  council  should  be 
made  elective,  and  that  the  colonial  govern- 
ment should  not  be  allowed  to  dispose  of  the 
moneys  of  the  colony  at  their  pleasure.  The 
House  of  Commons  and  the  Government  here 
replied  by  refusing  to  listen  to  the  proposal 
to  make  the  legislative  council  an  elective 
body,  and  authorizing  the  provincial  govern- 
ment without  the  consent  of  the  colonial  rep- 
resentation to  appropriate  the  money  in  the 
treasury  for  the  administration  of  justice  and 
the  maintenance  of  the  executive  system. 
This  was  in  plain  words  to  announce  to  the 
French  population,  who  made  up  the  vast 
majority,  aud  whom  we  had  taught  to  believe 
in  the  representative  form  of  government, 
that  their  wishes  would  never  count  for  any- 
thing, and  that  the  colony  was  to  be  ruled 
solely  at  the  pleasure  of  the  little  British 
party  of  officials  and  Crown  nominees.  It  is 
not  necessary  to  suppose  that  in  all  these  dis- 


putes the  popular  majority  were  in  the  right 
and  the  officials  in  the  wrong.  No  one  can 
doubt  that  there  was  much  bitterness  of  feel- 
ing arising  out  of  the  mere  differences  of 
race.  The  French  and  the  English  could 
not  be  got  to  blend.  In  some  places,  as  it 
was  afterwards  said  in  the  famous  report  of 
Lord  Durham,  the  two  sets  of  colonists  never 
publicly  met  together  except  in  the  jury-box, 
and  then  only  for  the  obstruction  of  justice. 
The  British  residents  complained  bitterly  of 
being  subject  to  French  law  and  procedure 
in  so  many  of  their  affairs.  The  tenure  of 
land  and  many  other  conditions  of  the  sys- 
tem were  antique  French,  and  the  French 
law  worked,  or  rather  did  not  work,  in  civil 
affairs  side  by  side  with  the  equally  impeded 
British  law  in  criminal  matters.  At  last  the 
representative  assembly  refused  to  vote  any 
further  supplies  or  to  carry  on  any  further 
business.  They  formulated  their  grievances 
against  the  home  Government.  Their  com- 
plaints were  of  arbitrary  conduct  on  the  part 
of  the  governors  ; intolerable  composition  of 
the  legislative  council,  which  they  insisted 
ought  to  be  elective  ; illegal  appropriation  of 
the  public  money  ; and  violent  prorogation 
of  the  provincial  Parliament. 

One  of  the  leading  men  in  the  movement 
which  afterwards  became  rebellion  in  Lower 
Canada  was  Mr.  Louis  Joseph  Papineau. 
This  man  had  risen  to  high  position  by  his 
talents,  his  energy,  and  his  undoubtedly  hon- 
orable character.  He  had  represented  Mon- 
treal in  the  Representative  Assembly  of 
Lower  Canada,  and  he  afterwards  became 
Speaker  of  the  House.  He  made  himself 
leader  of  the  movement  to  protest  against  the 
policy  of  the  governors,  and  that  of  the  Gov- 
ernment at  home,  by  whom  they  were  sus- 
tained. He  held  a series  of  meetings,  at  some 
of  which  undoubtedly  rather  strong  language 
was  used,  and  too  frequent  and  significant 
appeals  were  made  to  the  example  held  out 
to  the  population  of  Lower  Canada  by  the 
successful  revolt  of  the  United  States.  Mr. 
Papineau  also  planned  the  convening  of  a 
great  convention  to  discuss  and  proclaim  the 
grievances  of  the  colonies.  Lord  Gosford, 
the  governor,  began  by  dismissing  several 
militia  officers  who  had  taken  part  in  some 
of  these  demonstrations  ; Mr.  Papineau  him- 
self was  an  officer  of  this  force.  Then  the 
governor  issued  warrants  for  the  apprehen- 
sion of  many  members  of  the  popular  As- 
sembly on  the  charge  of  high  treason.  Some 
of  these  at  once  left  the  country  ; others 
against  whom  warrants  were  issued  were  ar- 
rested, and  a sudden  resistance  was  made  by 
their  friends  and  supporters.  Then,  in  the 
manner  familiar  to  all  who  have  read  any- 
thing of  the  history  of  revolutionary  move- 
ments, the  resistance  to  a capture  of  prison- 
ers suddenly  transformed  itself  into  open 
rebellion. 

The  rebellion  was  not  in  a military  sense  a 
very  great  thing.  At  its  first  outbreak  the 
military  authorities  were  for  a moment  sur- 
prised, and  the  rebels  obtained  one  or  two 
trifling  advantages.  But  the  commander-in- 
chief at  once  showed  energy  adequate  to  the 
occasion,  and  used,  as  it  was  his  duty  to  do, 
a strong  hand  in  putting  the  movement 
down.  The  rebels  fought  with  somethin" 
like  desperation  in  one  or  two  instances,  and 
there  was,  it  must  be  said,  a good  deal  of 
blood  shed.  The  disturbance,  however, 
after  a while  extended  to  the  upper  province. 
Upper  Canada  too  had  its  complaints  against 
its  governors  and  the  home  Government,  and 
its  protests  against  having  its  offices  all  dis- 
posed of  by  a “ family  compact but  the 
rebellious  movement  does  not  seem  to  have 
taken  a genuine  hold  of  the  province  at  any 
time.  There  was  some  discontent ; there 
was  a constant  stimulus  to  excitement  kept 
up  from  across  the  American  frontier  by 
sympathizers  with  any  republican  movement ; 
and  there  were  some  excitable  persons  in- 
clined for  revolutionary  change  in  the  prov- 
ince itself  whose  zeal  caught  fire  when  the 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


9 


flame  broke  out  in  Lower  Canada.  But  it 
seems  to  have  been  an  exotic  movement  alto- 
gether, and,  so  far  as  its  military  history  is 
concerned,  deserves  notice  chiefly  for  the 
chivalrous  eccentricity  of  the  plan  by  which 
the  governor  of  the  province  undertook  to 
put  it  down.  The  governor  was  the  gallant 
and  fanciful  soldier  and  traveller,  Sir  Fran- 
cis, then  Major,  Head.  He  who  had  fought 
at  Waterloo,  and  seen  much  service  besides, 
was  quietly  performing  the  duties  of  Assist- 
ant Poor  Law  Commissioner  for  the  county 
of  Kent,  when  he  was  summoned,  in  1835, 
at  a moment’s  notice,  to  assume  the  gover- 
norship of  Upper  Canada.  When  the  rebel- 
lion broke  out  in  that  province,  Major  Head 
proved  himself  not  merely  equal  to  the  oc- 
casion, but  boldly  superior  to  it.  He  prompt- 
ly resolved  to  win  a grand  moral  victory  over 
all  rebellion  then  and  for  the  future.  He 
was  seized  with  a desire  to  show  to  the  whole 
world  how  vain  it  was  for  any  disturber  to 
think  of  shaking  the  loyalty  of  the  province 
under  his  control.  He  issued  to  rebellion  in 

feneral  a challenge  not  unlike  that  which 
liakespeare’s  Prince  Harry  offers  to  the 
chiefs  of  the  insurrection  against  Henry  IV. 
He  invited  it  to  come  on  and  settle  the  con- 
troversy by  a sort  of  duel.  He  sent  all  the 
regular  soldiers  out  of  the  province  to  the 
help  of  the  authorities  of  Lower  Canada  ; he 
allowed  the  rebels  to  mature  their  plans  in 
any  way  they  liked  ; he  permitted  them  to 
choose  their  own  day  and  hour,  and  when 
they  were  ready  to  begin  their  assaults  on 
constituted  authority,  he  summoned  to  his 
side  the  militia  and  all  the  loyal  inhabitants, 
and  with  their  help  he  completely  ex- 
tinguished the  rebellion.  It  was  but  a very 
trifling  affair  ; it  went  out  or  collapsed  in  a 
moment.  Major  Head  had  his  desire.  He 
showed  that  rebellion  in  that  province  was 
not  a thing  serious  enough  to  call  for  the  in- 
tervention of  regular  troops.  The  loyal  col- 
onists were  for  the  most  part  delighted  with 
the  spirited  conduct  of  their  leader  and  his 
new-fashioned  way  of  dealing  with  rebellion. 
No  doubt  the  moral  effect  was  highly  impos- 
ing. The  plan  was  almost  as  original  as 
that  described  in  Herodotus  and  introduced 
into  one  of  Massinger’s  plays,  when  the 
moral  authority  of  the  masters  is  made  to  as- 
sert itself  over  the  rebellious . slaves  by  the 
mere  exhibition  of  the  symbolic  whip.  But 
the  authorities  at  home  took  a somewhat 
more  prosaic  view  of  the  policy  of  Sir  Fran- 
cis Head.  It  was  suggested  that  if  the  fears 
of  many  had  been  realized  and  the  rebellion 
had  been  aided  by  a large  force  of  sympa- 
thizers from  the  United  States,  the  moral 
authority  of  Canadian  loyalty  might  have 
stood  greatly  in  need  of  the  material  presence 
of  regular  troops.  In  the  end  Sir  Francis 
Head  resigned  his  office.  His  loyalty,  cour- 
age, and  success  were  acknowledged  by  the 
gift  of  a baronetcy  ; and  he  obtained  the  ad- 
miration not  merely  of  those  who  approved 
his  policy,  but  even  of  many  among  those 
who  felt  bound  to  condemn  it.  Perhaps  it 
may  be  mentioned  that  there  were  some  who 
persisted  to  the  last  in  the  belief  that  Sir 
Francis  Head  was  not  by  any  means  so  rashly 
chivalrous  as  he  had  allowed  himself  to  be 
thought,  and  that  he  had  full  preparation 
made,  if  his  moral  demonstration  should  fail, 
to  supply  its  place  in  good  time  with  more 
commonplace  and  effective  measures. 

The  news  of  the  outbreaks  m Canada  cre- 
ated a natural  excitement  in  this  country. 
There  was  a very  strong  feeling  of  sympathy 
among  many  classes  here — not,  indeed,  with 
the  rebellion,  but  with  the  colony  which 
complained  of  what  seemed  to  be  genuine 
and  serious  grievances.  Public  meetings 
were  held  at  which  resolutions  were  passed 
ascribing  the  disturbances  in  the  first  place  to 
the  refusal  by  the  Government  of  any  redress 
sought  for  by  the  colonists.  Mr.  Hume,  the 
pioneer  of  financial  reform,  took  the  side  of 
the  colonists  very  warmly,  both  in  and  out 
of  Parliament.  During  one  of  Ihe  Parlia- 


mentary debates  on  the  subject,  Sir  Robert 
Peel  referred  to  the  principal  leader  of  the 
rebellion  in  Upper  Canada  as  “a  Mr.  Mac- 
kenzie. ” Mr.  Hume  resented  this  way  of 
speaking  of  a prominent  colonist,  and  re- 
marked that  “ there  was  a Mr.  Mackenzie  as 
there  might  be  a Sir  Robert  Peel,”  and  cre- 
ated some  amusement  by  referring  to  the 
declarations  of  Lord  Chatham  on  the  Amer- 
ican Stamp  Act,  which  he  cited  as  the 
opinions  of  " a Mr.  Pitt.”  Lord  John  Rus- 
sell on  the  part  of  the  Government  introduced 
a bill  to  deal  with  the  rebellious  province. 
The  bill  proposed  in  brief  to  suspend  for  a 
time  the  constitution  of  Lower  Canada,  and 
to  send  out  from  this  country  a governor- 
general  and  high  commissioner,  with  full 
powers  to  deal  with  the  rebellion,  and  to  re- 
model the  constitution  of  both  provinces. 
The  proposal  met  with  a good  deal  of  oppo- 
sition at  first  on  very  different  grounds.  Mr. 
Roebuck,  who  was  then,  as  it  happened,  out 
of  Parliament,  appeared  as  the  agent  and  rep- 
resentative of  the  province  of  Lower  Canada, 
and  demanded  to  be  heard  at  the  bar  of  both 
the  houses  in  opposition  to  the  bill.  After 
some  little  demur  his  demand  was  granted, 
and  he  stood  at  the  bar,  first  of  the  Com- 
mons, and  then  of  the  Lords,  and  opposed 
the  bill  on  the  ground  that  it  unjustly  sus- 
pended the  constitution  of  Lower  Canada  in 
consequence  of  disturbances  provoked  by  the 
intolerable  oppression  of  the  home  Govern- 
ment. A critic  of  that  day  remarked  that 
most  orators  seemed  to  make  it  their  business 
to  conciliate  and  propitiate  the  audience  they 
desired  to  win  over,  but  that  Mr.  Roebuck 
seemed  from  the  very  first  to  be  determined 
to  set  all  his  hearers  against  him  and  his 
cause.  Mr.  Roebuck’s  speeches  were,  how- 
ever, exceedingly  argumentative  and  power- 
ful appeals.  Their  effect  was  enhanced  by 
the  singularly  youthful  appearance  of  the 
speaker,  who  is  described  as  looking  like  a 
boy  hardly  out  of  his  teens. 

It  was  evident,  however,  that  the  proposal 
of  the  Government  must  in  the  main  be 
adopted.  The  general  opinion  of  Parliament 
decided  not  unreasonably  that  that  was  not 
the  moment  for  entering  into  a consideration 
of  the  past  policy  of  the  Government,  and 
that  the  country  could  do  nothing  better  just 
then  than  send  out  some  man  of  commanding 
ability  and  character  to  deal  with  the  exist- 
ing condition  of  things.  There  was  an  al- 
most universal  admission  that  the  Govern- 
ment had  found  the  right  man  when  Lord 
John  Russell  mentioned  the  name  of  Lord 
Durham. 

Lord  Durham  was  a man  of  remarkable 
character.  It  is  a matter  of  surprise  how 
little  his  name  is  thought  of  by  the  present 
generation,  seeing  what  a strenuous  figure  he 
seemed  in  the  eyes  of  his  contemporaries, 
and  how  striking  a part  he  played  in  the  pol- 
itics of  a time  which  has  even  still  some  liv- 
ing representatives.  He  belonged  to  one  of 
the  oldest  families  in  England.  The  Lamb- 
tons  had  lived  on  their  estate  in  the  north,  in 
uninterrupted  succession,  since  the  Con- 
quest. The  male  succession,  it  is  stated, 
never  was  interrupted  since  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury. They  were  not,  however,  a family  of 
aristocrats.  Their  wealth  was  derived  chiefly 
from  coal  mines,  and  grew  up  in  later  days  ; 
the  property  at  first,  and  for  a long  time,  was 
of  inconsiderable  value.  For  more  than  a 
century,  however,  the  Lambtons  had  come  to 
take  rank  among  the  gentry  of  the  county,  and 
some  member  of  the  family  had  represented 
the  city  of  Durham  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons from  1727  until  the  early  death  of  Lord 
Durham’s  father  in  December,  1797.  Wil- 
liam Henry  Lambton,  Lord  Durham’s  father, 
was  a staunch  Whig,  and  had  been  a friend 
and  associate  of  Fox.  John  George  Lambton, 
the  son,  was  born  at  Lambton  Castle  in  April, 
1792.  Before  he  was  quite  twenty  years  of 
age,  he  made  a romantic  marriage  at  Gretna 
Green  with  a lady  who  died  three  years 
after.  He  served  for  a short  time  in  a regi- 


ment of  Hussars.  About  a year  after  the 
death  of  his  first  wife,  he  married  the  eldest 
daughter  of  Lord  Grey.  He  was  then  only 
twenty-four  years  of  age.  He  had  before 
this  been  returned  to  Parliament  for  the 
county  of  Durham,  and  he  soon  distinguished 
himself  as  a very  advanced  and  energetic  re- 
former. While  in  the  Commons  he  seldom 
addressed  the  House,  but  when  he  did 
speak,  it  was  in  support  of  some  measure  of 
reform,  or  against  what  he  conceived  to  be 
antiquated  and  illiberal  legislation.  He 
brought  out  a plan  of  his  own  for  Parlia- 
mentary reform  in  1821.  In  1828  he  was 
raised  to  the  peerage  with  the  title  of  Baron 
Durham.  When  the  Ministry  of  Lord  Grey 
was  formed,  in  November,  1830,  Lord  Dur- 
ham became  Lord  Privy  Seal.  He  is  said  to 
have  had  an  almost  complete  control  over 
Lord  Grey.  He  had  an  impassioned  and  en- 
ergetic nature,  which  sometimes  drove  him 
into  outbreaks  of  feeling  which  most  of  his 
colleagues  dreaded.  Various  highly  colored 
descriptions  of  stormy  scenes  between  him 
and  his  companions  in  office  are  given  by 
writers  of  the  time.  Lord  Durham,  his  ene- 
mies and  some  of  his  friends  said,  bullied  and 
browbeat  his  opponents  in  the  Cabinet,  and 
would  sometimes  hardly  allow  his  father-in- 
law  and  official  chief  a chance  of  putting  in  a 
word  on  the  other  side,  or  in  mitigation  of  his 
tempestuous  mood.  He  was  thorough  in  his 
reforming  purposes,  and  would  have  rushed 
at  radical  changes  with  scanty  consideration 
for  the  time  or  for  the  temper  of  his  oppo- 
nents. He  had  very  little  reverence  indeed 
for  what  Carlyle  calls  the  majesty  of  custom. 
Whatever  he  wished  he  strongly  wished. 
He  had  no  idea  of  reticence,  and  cared  not 
much  for  the  decorum  of  office.  It  is  not 
necessary  to  believe  all  the  stories  told  by 
those  who  hated  and  dreaded  Lord  Durham, 
in  order  to  accept  the  belief  that  he  really 
was  somewhat  of  an  enfant  teirible  to  the 
stately  Lord  Grey,  and  to  the  easy-going  col- 
leagues who  were  by  no  means  absolutely 
eaten  up  by  their  zeal  for  reform.  In  the 
powerful  speech  which  he  delivered  in  the 
House  of  Lords  on  the  Reform  Bill,  there  is 
a specimen  of  his  eloquence  of  denunciation 
which  might  well  have  startled  listeners  even 
in  those  days  when  the  license  of  speech  was 
often  sadly  out  of  proportion  with  its  le- 
galized liberty.  Lord  Durham  was  especially 
roused  to  anger  by  some  observations  made 
in  the  debate  of  a previous  night  by  the 
Bishop  of  Exeter.  He  described  the  prelate’s 
speech  as  an  exhibition  of  “ coarse  and  viru- 
lent invective,  malignant  and  false  insinua- 
tion, the  grossest  perversions  of  historical 
facts  decked  out  with  all  the  choicest  flowers 
of  pamphleteering  slang.”  He  was  called  to 
order  for  these  words,  and  a peer  moved  that 
they  be  taken  down.  Lord  Durham  was  by 
no  means  dismayed.  He  coolly  declared 
that  he  did  not  mean  to  defend  his  language 
as  the  most  elegant  or  graceful,  but  that  it 
exactly  conveyed  the  ideas  regarding  the 
bishop  which  he  meant  to  express  ; that  he 
believed  the  bishop’s  speech  to  contain  in- 
sinuations which  were  as  false  as  scandalous  ; 
that  he  had  said  so ; that  he  now  begged 
leave  to  repeat  the  words,  and  that  he  paused 
to  give  any  noble  lord  who  thought  fit,  an 
opportunity  of  taking  them  down.  No  one, 
however,  seemed  disposed  to  encounter  any 
farther  this  impassioned  adversary,  and  when 
he  had  had  his  say,  Lord  Durham  became 
somewhat  mollified,  and  endeavored  to  soft- 
en the  pain  of  the  impression  he  had  made. 
He  begged  the  House  of  Lords  to  make  some 
allowance  for  him  if  he  had  spoken  too 
warmly  ; for,  as  he  said  with  much  pathetic 
force,  his  mind  had  lately  been  tortured  by 
domestic  loss.  He  thus  alluded  to  the  recent 
death  of  his  eldest  son — “a  beautiful  boy,” 
says  a writer  of  some  years  ago,  “ whose 
features  will  live  for  ever  in  the  well  known 
picture  by  Lawrence.” 

The  whole  of  this  incident,  the  fierce  at- 
tack and  the  sudden  pathetic  expression  of 


10 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


regret,  ■will  serve  well  enough  to  illustrate 
the  emotional,  uncontrolled  character  of  Lord 
Durham.  He  was  one  of  the  men  who,  even 
when  they  are  thoroughly  in  the  right,  have 
often  the  unhappy  art  of  seeming  to  put 
themselves  completely  in  the  wrong.  He 
was  the  most  advanced  of  all  the  reformers 
in  the  reforming  Ministry  of  Lord  Grey. 
His  plan  of  Reform  in  1821  proposed  to  give 
four  hundred  members  to  certain  districts  of 
town  and  country,  in  which  every  householder 
should  have  a vote.  When  Lord  Grey  had 
formed  his  reform  Ministry,  Lord  Durham 
sent  for  Lord  John  Russell  and  requested  him 
to  draw  up  a scheme  of  reform.  A commit- 
tee was  formed  on  Lord  Durham’s  sugges- 
tion, consisting  of  Sir  James  Graham,  Lord 
Duncannon,  Lord  John  Russell,  and  Lord 
Durham  himself.  Lord  John  Russell  drew 
up  a plan,  which  he  published  long  after 
with  the  alterations  which  Lord  Durham  had 
suggested  and  written  in  his  own  hand  on 
the  margin.  If  Lord  Durham  had  had  his 
way  the  ballot  would  at  that  time  have  been 
included  in  the  programme  of  the  Govern- 
ment ; and  it  was  indeed  understood  that  at 
one  period  of  the  discussions  he  had  won 
over  his  colleagues  to  his  opinion  on  that 
subject.  He  was  in  a word  the  Radical 
member  of  the  Cabinet,  with  all  the  energy 
which  became  such  a character  ; with  that 
“ magnificent  indiscretion”  which  had  been 
attributed  to  a greater  man,  Edmund  Burke  ; 
with  all  that  courage  of  his  opinions  which, 
in  the  Frenchified  phraseology  of  modern 
politics,  is  so  much  talked  of,  so  rarely 
found,  and  so  little  trusted  or  successful 
when  it  is  found. 

Not  long  after  Lord  Durham  was  raised 
in  the  peerage  and  became  an  carl.  His  in- 
fluence over  Lord  Grey  continued  great,  but 
his  differences  of  opinion  with  his  former 
colleagues — he  had  resigned  his  office — be- 
came greater  and  greater  every  day.  More 
than  once  he  had  taken  the  public  into  his 
confidence  in  his  characteristic  and  heedless 
way.  He  was  sent  on  a mission  to  Russia, 
perhaps  to  get  him  out  of  the  way,  and  after- 
wards he  was  made  ambassador  at  the  Rus- 
sian court.  In  the  interval  between  his  mis- 
sion and  his  formal  appointment  he  had  come 
back  to  England  and  performed  a series  of 
enterprises  which  in  the  homely  and  undig- 
nified language  of  American  politics  would 
probably  be  called  “ stumping  the  country.” 
He  was  looked  to  with  much  hope  by  the 
more  extreme  Liberals  in  the  country,  and 
with  corresponding  dislike  and  dread  by  all 
W'ho  thought  the  country  had  gone  far 
•enough,  or  much  too  far,  in  the  recent  polit- 
ical changes. 

None  of  his  opponents,  however,  denied 
his  great  ability.  He  was  never  deterred  by 
■conventional  beliefs  and  habits  from  looking 
boldly  into  the  very  heart  of  a great  political 
difficulty.  He  was  never  afraid  to  propose 
what  in  times  later  than  his  have  been  called 
heroic  remedies.  There  was  a general  im- 
pression, perhaps, even  among  those  who  liked 
him  least,  that  he  was  a sort  of  “ unemployed 
Caesar,”  a man  who  only  required  a field 
large  enough  to  develop  great  qualities  in  the 
ruling  of  men.  The  difficulties  in  Canada 
seemed  to  have  come  as  if  expressly  to  give 
him  an  opportunity  of  proving  himself  all 
that  his  friends  declared  him  to  be,  or  of  jus- 
tifying for  ever  the  distrust  of  his  enemies. 
He  went  out  to  Canada  with  the  assurance 
of  every  one  that  his  expedition  would  either 
make  or  mar  a career,  if  not  a country. 

Lord  Durham  went  out  to  Canada  with  the 
brightest  hopes  and  prospects.  He  took  with 
him  two  of  the  men  best  qualified  in  Eng- 
land at  that  time  to  make  his  mission  a suc- 
cess— Mr.  Charles  Buller  and  Mr.  Edward 
Gibbon  Wakefield.  He  understood  that  he 
was  going  out  as  a dictator,  and  there  can  be 
no  doubt  that  his  expedition  was  regarded  in 
this  light  by  England  and  by  the  colonies. 
We  have  remarked  that  people  looked  on  his 
mission  as  likely  to  make  or  mar  a career,  if 


not  a country.  What  it  did,  however,  waa 
somewhat  different  from  that  which  any  one 
expected.  Lord  Durham  found  out  a new 
alternative.  He  made  a country  and  he 
marred  a career.  He  is  distinctly  the  founder 
of  the  system  which  has  since  worked  with 
such  gratifying  success  in  Canada  ; he  is  the 
founder  even  of  the  principle  which  allowed 
the  quiet  development  of  the  provinces  into 
a confederation  with  neighboring  colonies 
under  the  name  of  the  Dominion  of  Canada. 
But  the  singular  quality  which  in  home  pol- 
itics had  helped  to  mar  so  much  of  Lord 
Durham’s  personal  career  was  in  full  work 
during  his  visit  to  Canada.  It  would  not  be 
easy  to  find  in  modern  political  history  so 
curious  an  example  of  splendid  and  lasting 
success  combined  with  all  the  appearance  of 
utter  and  disastrous  failure.  The  mission  of 
Lord  Durham  saved  Canada.  It  ruined 
Lord  Durham.  At  the  moment  it  seemed  to 
superficial  observers  to  have  been  as  injuri- 
ous to  the  colony  as  to  the  man. 

Lord  Durham  arrived  in  Quebec  at  the 
end  of  May,  1838.  He  at  once  issued  a proc- 
lamation, in  style  like  that  of  a dictator.  It 
was  not  in  any  way  unworthy  of  the  occa- 
sion, which  especially  called  for  the  interven- 
tion of  a brave  and  enlightened  dictatorship. 
He  declared  that  he  would  unsparingly  pun- 
ish any  who  violated  the  laws,  but  he  frankly 
invited  the  co-operation  of  the  colonies  to 
form  a new  system  of  government  really 
suited  to  their  wants  and  to  the  altering  con- 
ditions of  civilization.  Unfortunately  he  had 
hardly  entered  on  his  work  of  dictatorship 
when  he  found  that  he  was  no  longer  a dic- 
tator. In  the  passing  of  the  Canada  Bill 
through  Parliament  the  powers  which  he  un- 
derstood were  to  be  conferred  upon  him  had 
been  considerably  reduced.  Lord  Durham 
went  to  work,  however,  as  if  he  were  still  in- 
vested with  absolute  authority  over  all  the  laws 
and  conditions  of  the  colony.  A very  Caesar 
laying  down  the  lines  for  the  future  govern- 
ment of  a province  could  hardly  have  been 
more  boldly  arbitrary.  Let  it  be  said 
also  that  Lord  Durham’s  arbitrariness  was 
for  the  most  part  healthy  in  effect  and  just 
in  spirit.  But  it  gave  an  immense  opportu- 
nity of  attack  on  himself  and  on  the  Govern- 
ment to  the  enemies  of  both  at  home.  Lord 
Durham  had  hardly  begun  his  work  of  re- 
construction when  his  recall  was  clamored 
for  by  vehement  voices  in  Parliament. 

Lord  Durham  began  by  issuing  a series  of 
ordinances  intended  to  provide  for  the  secur- 
ity of  Lower  Canada.  He  proclaimed  a very 
liberal  amnesty,  to  which,  however,  there 
were  certain  exceptions.  The  leaders  of  the 
rebellious  movement,  Papineau  and  others, 
who  had  escaped  from  the  colony,  were  ex- 
cluded from  the  amnesty.  So  likewise  were 
certain  prisoners  who  either  had  voluntarily 
confessed  themselves  guilty  of  high  treason, 
or  had  been  induced  to  make  such  an  ac- 
knowledgment in  the  hope  of  obtaining  a 
mitigated  punishment.  These  Lord  Durham 
ordered  to  be  transported  to  Bermuda  ; and 
for  any  of  these,  or  of  the  leaders  who  had 
escaped,  who  should  return  to  the  colony 
without  permission,  he  proclaimed  that  they 
should  be  deemed  guilty  of  high  treason  and 
condemned  to  suffer  death.  It  needs  no 
learned  legal  argument  to  prove  that  this  was 
a proceeding  not  to  be  justified  by  any  of  the 
ordinary  forms  of  law.  Lord  Durham  had 
not  power  to  transport  any  one  to  Bermuda. 
He  had  no  authority  over  Bermuda  ; he  had 
no  authority  which  he  could  delegate  to  the 
officials  of  Bermuda  enabling  them  to  detain 
political  prisoners.  Nor  had  he  any  power  to 
declare  that  persons  who  returned  to  the  col- 
ony were  to  be  liable  to  the  punishment  of 
death.  It  is  not  a capital  ‘offence  by  any  of 
the  laws  of  England  for  even  a transported 
convict  to  break  bounds  and  return  to  his 
home.  Ail  this  was  quite  illegal ; that  is  to 
say,  was  outside  the  limits  of  Lord  Durham’s 
legal  authority.  Lord  Durham  was  well 
aware  of  the  fact.  He  had  not  for  a mo- 


| ment  supposed  that  he  was  acting  in  accord- 
ance with  ordinary  English  law.  He  was 
acting  in  the  spirit  of  a dictator,  at  once  bold 
and  merciful,  who  is  under  the  impression 
that  he  has  been  invested  with  extraordinary 
powers  for  the  very  reason  that  the  crisis 
does  not  admit  of  the  ordinary  operations  of 
law.  For  the  decree  of  death  to  banished 
men  returning  without  permission,  he  had 
indeed  the  precedent  and  authority  of  acts 
passed  already  by  the  colonial  Parliament  it- 
self ; but  Lord  Durham  did  not  care  for  any 
such  authority.  He  found  that  he  had  on 
his  hands  a considerable  number  of  prisoners 
whom  it  would  be  absurd  to  put  on  trial  in 
Lower  Canada  with  the  usual  forms  of  law. 
It  would  have  been  absolutely  impossible  to 
get  any  unpacked  jury  to  convict  them. 
They  would  have  been  triumphantly  acquit- 
ted. The  authority  of  the  Crown  would 
have  been  brought  into  greater  contempt 
than  ever.  So  little  faith  had  the  colonists  in 
the  impartial  working  of  the  ordinary  law 
in  the  governor’s  hands,  that  the  universal 
impression  in  Lower  Canada  was  that  Lord 
Durham  would  have  the  prisoners  tried  by  a 
packed  jury  of  his  own  officials,  convicted 
as  a matter  of  course,  and  executed  out  of 
hand.  It  was  with  amazement  people  found 
that  the  new  governor  would  not  stoop  to  the 
infamy  of  packing  a jury.  Lord  Durham 
saw  no  better  way  out  of  the  difficulty  than 
to  impose  a sort  of  exile  on  those  who  ad- 
mitted their  connection  with  the  rebellion, 
and  to  prevent  by  the  threat  of  a severe  pen- 
alty the  return  of  those  who  had  already  fled 
from  the  colony.  His  amnesty  measure  was 
large  and  liberal ; but  he  did  not  see  that  he 
could  allow  prominent  offenders  to  remain 
unrebuked  in  the  colony  ; and  to  attempt  to 
bring  them  to  trial  would  have  been  to  secure 
for  them,  not  punishment,  but  public  honor. 

Another  measure  of  Lord  Durham’s  was 
likewise  open  to  the  charge  of  excessive  use 
of  power.  The  act  which  appointed  him  pre- 
scribed that  he  should  be  advised  by  a coun- 
cil, and  that  every  ordinance  of  his  should  be 
signed  by  at  least  five  of  its  members.  There 
was  already  a council  in  existence  nominated 
by  Lord  Durham’s  predecessor,  Sir  J.  Col- 
borne  ; a sort  of  provisional  government  put 
together  to  supply  for  the  moment  the  place 
of  the  suspended  political  constitution. 
This  council  Lord  Durham  set  aside  alto- 
gether, and  substituted  for  it  one  of  his  own 
making,  and  composed  chiefly  of  his  secre- 
taries and  the  members  of  his  staff.  In  truth 
this  was  but  a part  of  the  policy  which  he 
had  marked  out  for  himself.  He  was  resolv- 
ed to  play  the  game  which  he  honestly  be- 
lieved lie  could  play  better  than  any  one  else. 
He  had  in  his  mind,  partly  from  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  gifted  and  well-instructed  men 
who  accompanied  and  advised  him,  a plan 
which  he  was  firmly  convinced  would  be  the 
j salvation  of  the  colony.  Events  have  proved 
| that  he  was  right.  His  disposal  of  the  pris- 
■ oners  was  only  a clearing  of  the  decks  for 
the  great  action  of  remodelling  the  colony. 
He  did  not  allow  a form  of  law  to  stand  be- 
tween him  and  his  purpose.  Indeed,  as  we 
have  already  said,  he  regarded  himself  as  a 
dictator  sent  out  to  reconstruct  a whole  sys- 
tem in  the  best  way  he  could.  When  he  was 
accused  of  having  gone  beyond  the  law,  he 
asked  with  a scorn  not  wholly  unreasonable  : 
“ What  are  the  constitutional  principles  re- 
maining in  force  where  the  whole  constitu- 
tion is  suspended  ? What  principle  of  the 
! British  Constitution  holds  good  in  a country 
where  the  people’s  money  is  taken  from 
them  without  the  people’s  consent ; where 
representative  government  is  annihilated ; 
where  martial  law  has  been  the  law  of  the 
land,  and  where  trial  by  jury  exists  only  to 
defeat  the  ends  of  justice,  and  to  provoke 
! the  righteous  scorn  and  indignation  of  the 
community?” 

Still  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  a less  im- 
petuous and  impatient  spirit  than  that  of 
Lord  Durham  might  have  found  a way  of 


beginning  his  great  reforms  without  provok- 
ing such  a storm  of  hostile  criticism.  He 
was,  it  must  always  be  remembered,  a dicta- 
tor who  only  strove  to  use  his  powers  for  the 
restoration  of  liberty  and  constitutional  gov- 
ernment. His  mode  of  disposing  of  his  pris- 
oners was  arbitrary  only  in  the  interests  of 
mercy.  He  declared  openly  that  he  did  not 
think  it  right  to  send  to  an  ordinary  penal 
settlement,  and  thus  brand  with  infamy, 
men  whom  the  public  feeling  of  the  colony 
entirely  approved,  and  whose  cause,  until 
they  broke  into  rebellion,  had  far  more  of 
right  on  its  side  than  that  of  the  authority 
they  complained  of  could  claim  to  possess. 
He  sent  them  to  Bermuda  simply  as  into  ex- 
ile ; to  remove  them  from  the  colony,  but 
nothing  more.  He  lent  the  weight  of  this 
authority  to  the  colonial  Act,  which  pre- 
scribed the  penalty  of  death  for  returning  to 
the  colony,  because  he  believed  that  the  men 
thus  proscribed  never  would  return. 

But  his  policy  met  with  the  severest  and 
most  unmeasured  criticism  at  home.  If 
Lord  Durham  had  been  guilty  of  the  worst 
excesses  of  power  which  Burke  charged 
against  Warren  Hastings,  he  could  not  have 
been  more  fiercely  denounced  in  the  House 
of  Lords.  He  was  accused  of  having  pro- 
mulgated an  ordinance  which  would  enable 
him  to  hang  men  without  any  trial  or  form 
of  trial.  None  of  his  opponents  seemed  to  re- 
member that  whether  his  disposal  of  the  pris- 
oners was  right  or  wrong,  it  was  only  a small 
and  incidental  part  of  a great  policy  cover- 
ing the  readjustment  of  the  whole  political 
and  social  system  of  a splendid  colony.  The 
criticism  went  on  as  if  the  promulgation  of 
the  Quebec  ordinances  was  the  be-all  and  the 
end-all  of  Lord  Durham’s  mission.  His 
opponents  made  great  complaint  about  the 
cost  of  his  progress  in  Canada.  Lord  Dur- 
ham had  undoubtedly  a lavish  taste  and  a 
love  for  something  like  Oriental  display. 
He  made  his  goings  about  in  Canada  like  a 
gorgeous  royal  progress  ; yet  it  was  well 
known  that  he  took  no  remuneration  what- 
ever for  himself,  and  did  not  even  accept  his 
own  personal  travelling  expenses.  He  after- 
wards stated  in  the  House  of  Lords  that  the 
visit  cost  him  personally  ten  thousand 
pounds  at  least.  Mr.  Hume,  the  advocate  of 
economy,  made  sarcastic  comment  on  the 
sudden  fit  of  parsimony  which  seemed  to  have 
seized,  in  Lord  Durham’s  case,  men  whom 
he  had  never  before  known  to  raise  their 
voices  against  any  prodigality  of  expendi- 
ture. 

The  Ministry  was  very  weak  in  debating 
power  in  the  House  of  Lords.  Lord  Durham 
had  made  enemies  there.  The  opportunity 
was  tempting  for  assailing  him  and  the  Min- 
istry together.  Many  of  the  criticisms  were 
undoubtedly  the  conscientious  protests  of 
men  who  saw  danger  in  any  departure  from 
the  recognized  principles  of  constitutional 
law.  Eminent  judges  and  lawyers  in  the 
House  of  Lords  naturally  looked  above  all 
tilings  to  the  proper  administration  of  the 
law  as  it  existed.  But  it  is  hard  to  doubt 
that  political  or  personal  enmity  influenced 
some  of  the  attacks  on  Lord  Durham’s  con- 
duct. Almost  all  the  leading  men  in  the 
House  of  Lords  were  against  him.  Lord 
Brougham  and  Lord  Lyndhurst  were  for  the 
time  leagued  in  opposition  to  the  Government 
and  in  attack  on  the  Canadian  policy.  Lord 
Brougham  claimed  to  be  consistent.  He  had 
opposed  the  Canada  coercion  from  the  be- 
ginning, he  said,  and  he  opposed  illegal  at- 
tempts to  deal  with  Canada  now.  It  seems 
a little  hard  to  understand  how  Lord  Brough- 
am could  really  have  so  far  misunderstood 
the  purpose  of  Lord  Durham’s  proclamation 
as  to  believe  that  he  proposed  to  hang  men 
without  the  form  of  law.  However  Lord 
Durham  may  have  broken  the  technical  rules 
of  law,  nothing  could  be  more  obvious  than 
the  fact  that  he  did  so  in  the  interest  of 
mercy  and  generosity,  and  not  that  of  tyran- 
nical severity.  Lord  Brougham  inveighed 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 

against  him  with  thundering  eloquence  as  if 
he  were  denouncing  another  Sejanus.  It 
must  be  owned  that  his  attacks  lost  some  of 
their  moral  effect  because  of  his  known  ha- 
tred to  Lord  Melbourne  and  the  Ministry,  and 
even  to  Lord  Durham  himself.  People  said 
that  Brougham  had  a special  reason  for  feel- 
ing hostile  to  anything  done  by  Lord  Dur- 
ham. A dinner  was  given  to  Lord  Grey  by 
the  Reformers  of  Edinburgh,  in  1834,  at 
which  Lord  Brougham  and  Lord  Durham 
were  both  present.  Brougham  was  called 
upon  to  speak,  and  in  the  course  of  his 
speech  he  took  occasion  to  condemn  certain 
too  zealous  Reformers  who  could  not  be  con- 
tent with  the  changes  that  had  been  made, 
but  must  demand  that  the  Ministry  should 
rush  forward  into  wild  and  extravagant  en- 
terprises. He  enlarged  upon  this  subject 
with  great  vivacity  and  with  amusing  variety 
of  humorous  and  rhetorical  illustration. 
Lord  Durham  assumed  that  the  attack  was 
intended  for  him.  His  assumption  was 
not  unnatural.  When  he  came  in  his  turn 
to  speak,  he  was  indiscreet  enough  to  reply 
directly  to  Lord  Brougham,  to  accept  the 
speech  of  the  former  as  a personal  challenge, 
and  in  bitter  words  to  retort  invective  and 
sarcasm.  The  scene  was  not  edifying.  The 
guests  were  scandalized.  The  effect  of 
Brougham’s  speech  was  wholly  spoiled. 
Brougham  was  made  to  seem  a disturber  of 
order  by  the  indiscretion  which  provoked  in- 
to retort  a man  notoriously  indiscreet  and  in- 
capable of  self-restraint.  It  is  not  unfair  to 
the  memory  of  so  fierce  and  unsparing  a po- 
litical gladiator  as  Lord  Brougham,  to  as 
sume  that  when  he  felt  called  upon  to 
attack  the  Canadian  policy  of  Lord  Durham, 
the  recollection  of  the  scene  at  the  Edin 
burgh  dinner  inspired  with  additional  force 
his  criticism  of  the  Quebec  ordinances. 

The  Ministry  were  weak  and  yielded. 
They  had  in  the  first  instance  approved  of 
the  ordinances,  but  they  quickly  gave  way 
and  abandoned  them.  They  avoided  a di- 
rect attempt  on  the  part  of  Lord  Brougham 
to  reverse  the  policy  of  Lord  Durham  by  an- 
nouncing that  they  had  determined  to  disal- 
low the  Quebec  ordinances.  Lord  Durham 
learned  for  the  first  time  from  an  American 
paper  that  the  Government  had  abandoned 
him.  He  at  once  announced  his  determina- 
tion to  give  up  his  position  and  to  return  to 
England.  His  letter  announcing  this  resolve 
crossed  on  the  ocean  the  despatch  from  home 
disallowing  his  ordinances.  With  character- 
istic imprudence  he  issued  a proclamation 
from  the  Castle  of  St.  Lewis,  in  the  city  of 
Quebec,  which  was  virtually  an  appeal  to  the 
public  feeling  of  the  colony  against  the  con- 
duct of  her  Majesty’s  Government.  When 
the  news  of  this  extraordinary  proclamation 
reached  home,  Lord  Durham  was  called  by 
the  Times  newspaper,  “ the  Lord  High  Sedi- 
tioner.”  The  representative  of  the  Sovereign, 
it  was  said,  had  appealed  to  the  judgment  of 
a still  rebellious  colony  against  the  policy  of 
the  Sovereign’s  own  advisers.  Of  course 
Lord  Durham’s  recall  was  unavoidable.  The 
Government  at  once  sent  out  a despatch  re- 
moving him  from  his  place  as  Governor  of 
British  North  America. 

Lord  Durham  had  not  waited  for  the  for- 
mal recall.  He  returned  to  England  a dis- 
graced man.  Yet  even  then  there  was 
public  spirit  enough  among  the  English  peo- 
ple to  refuse  to  ratify  any  sentence  of  dis- 
grace upon  him.  When  he  landed  at  Ply- 
mouth, he  was  received  with  acclamations 
by  the  population,  although  the  Government 
had  prevented  any  of  the  official  honor  usu- 
ally shown  to  returning  governors  from  being 
offered  to  him.  Mr.  John  Stuart  Mill  has 
claimed  with  modest  firmness  and  with  per- 
fect justice  a leading  share  in  influencing 
public  opinion  in  favor  of  Lord  Durham. 
“ Lord  Durham,”  he  says  in  his  autobiogra- 
phjq  “ was  bitterly  attacked  from  all  sides, 
inveighed  against  by  enemies,  given  up  by 
timid  friends  ; while  those  who  would  will- 


11 

ingly  have  defended  him  did  not  know 
what  to  say.  He  appeared  to  be  returning  a 
defeated  and  discredited  man.  I had  fol- 
lowed the  Canadian  events  from  the  begin- 
ning ; I had  been  one  of  the  prompters  of  his 
prompters  ; his  policy  was  almost  exactly 
what  mine  would  have  been,  and  I was  in  a 
position  to  defend  it.  I wrote  and  published 
a manifesto  in  the  [Westminster]  Review,  in 
which  I took  the  very  highest  ground  in  his 
behalf,  claiming  for  him  not  mere  acquittal, 
but  praise  and  honor.  Instantly  a number  of 
other  writers  took  up  the  tone.  I believe 
there  was  a portion  of  truth  in  what  Lord 
Durham  soon  after,  with  polite  exaggeration, 
said  to  me,  that  to  this  article  might  be  as- 
cribed the  almost  triumphal  reception  which 
he  met  with  on  his  arrival  in  England.  I be- 
lieve it  to  have  been  the  word  in  season 
which  at  a critical  moment  does  much  to  de- 
cide the  result ; the  touch  which  determines 
whether  a stone  set  in  motion  at  the  top  of 
an  eminence  shall  roll  down  on  one  side  or  on 
the  other.  All  hopes  connected  with  Lord 
Durham  as  a politician  soon  vanished  ; but 
with  regard  to  Canadian  and  generally  to 
colonial  policy  the  cause  was  gained.  Lord 
Durham’s  report,  written  by  Charles  Buffer, 
partly  under  the  inspiration  of  Wakefield, 
began  a new  era  ; its  recommendations,  ex- 
tending to  complete  internal  self-government, 
were  in  fuff  operation  in  Canada  within  two 
or  three  years,  and  have  been  since  extended 
to  nearly  all  the  other  colonies  of  European 
race  which  have  any  claim  to  the  character 
of  important  communities.  ” In  this  instance 
the  victa  causa  pleased  not  only  Cato,  but  in 
the  end  the  gods  as  well. 

Lord  Durham’s  report  was  acknowledged 
by  enemies  as  well  as  by  the  most  impartial 
critics  to  be  a masterly  document.  As  Mr. 
Miff  has  said,  it  laid  the  foundation  of  tha 
political  success  and  social  prosperity  not 
only  of  Canada  but  of  all  the  other  important 
colonies.  After  having  explained  in  the  most 
exhaustive  manner  the  causes  of  discontent 
and  backwardness  in  Canada,  it  went  on  to 
recommend  that  the  government  of  the  col- 
ony should  be  put  as  much  as  possible  into 
the  hands  of  the  colonists  themselves,  that 
they  themselves  should  execute  as  well  as 
make  the  laws,  the  limit  of  the  Imperial  Gov- 
ernment’s interference  being  in  such  matters 
as  affect  the  relations  of  the  colony  with  the 
mother  country,  such  as  the  constitution  and 
form  of  government,  the  regulation  of  foreign 
relations  and  trade,  and  the  disposal  of  the 
public  lands.  Lord  Durham  proposed  to  es- 
tablish a thoroughly  good  system  of  munici- 
pal institutions  ; to  secure  the  independence 
of  the  judges  ; to  make  all  provincial  officers, 
except  the  governor  and  his  secretary,  re- 
sponsible to  the  colonial  legislature  ; and  to 
repeal  all  former  legislation  with  respect  to 
the  reserves  of  land  for  the  clergy.  Finally, 
he  proposed  that  the  provinces  of  Canada 
should  be  reunited  politically^  and  should  be- 
come one  legislature, containing  the  represent- 
atives of  both  races  and  of  all  districts.  It 
is  significant  that  the  report  also  recommend- 
ed that  in  any  act  to  be  introduced  for  this 
purpose,  a provision  should  be  made  by 
which  all  or  any  of  the  other  North  Ameri- 
can colonies  should  on  the  application  of 
their  legislatures  and  with  the  consent  of 
Canada  be  admitted  into  the  Canadian 
Union.  Thus  the  separation  which  Fox 
thought  unwise  was  to  be  abolished,  and  the 
Canadas  were  to  be  fused  into  one  system, 
which  Lord  Durham  would  have  had  a fed- 
eration. In  brief,  Lord  Durham  proposed  to 
make  the  Canadas  self-governing  as  regards 
their  internal  affairs,  and  the;  germ  of  a federal 
union.  It  is  not  necessary  to  describe  in  de- 
tail the  steps  by  which  the  Government 
gradually  introduced  the  recommendations  of 
Lord  Durham  to  Parliament  and  carried 
them  to  success.  Lord  Glenelg,  one  of  the 
feeblest  and  most  apathetic  of  colonial  secre- 
taries, had  retired  from  office,  partly,  no 
doubt,  because  of  the  attacks  in  Parliament 


12 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


on  his  administration  of  Canadian  affairs. 
Ho  was  succeeded  at  the  Colonial  Office  by 
Lord  Normanby,  and  Lord  Normanby  gave 
way  in  a few  months  to  Lord  John  Russell, 
who  was  full  of  energy  and  earnestness. 
Lord  Durham’s  successor  and  disciple  in  the 
work  of  Canadian  government,  Lord  Syden- 
ham— best  known  as  Mr.  Charles  Poulett 
Thomson,  one  of  the  pioneers  of  free  trade — 
received  Lord  John  Russell’s  cordial  co- 
operation and  support.  Lord  John  Russell 
introduced  into  the  House  of  Commons  a bill 
which  he  described  as  intended  to  lay  the 
foundation  of  a permanent  settlement  of  the 
affairs  of  Canada.  The  measure  was  post- 
poned for  a session  because  some  statesmen 
thought  that  it  would  not  be  acceptable  to 
the  Canadians  themselves.  Some  little  sput- 
terings  of  the  rebellion  had  also  lingered  after 
Lord  Durham’s  return  to  this  country, 
and  these  for  a short  time  had  directed  at- 
tention away  from  the  policy  of  reorganiza- 
tion. In  1840,  however,  the  Act  was  passed 
which  reunited  Upper  and  Lower  Canada  on 
the  basis  proposed  by  Lord  Durham.  Fur- 
ther legislation  disposed  of  the  clergy  reserve 
lands  for  the  general  benefit  of  all  churches 
and  denominations  The  way  was  made 
clear  for  that  scheme  which  in  times  nearer 
to  our  own  has  formed  the  Dominion  of 
Canada. 

Lord  Durham  did  not  live  to  see  the  suc- 
cess of  the  policy  he  had  recommended. 
We  may  anticipate  the  close  of  his  career. 
Within  a few  days  after  the  passing  of  the 
Canada  Government  Bill  he  died  at  Cowes, 
in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  on  July  28,  1840.  He 
was  then  little  more  than  forty-eight  years  of 
age.  He  had  for  some  time  been  in  failing 
health,  and  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  the 
mortification  attending  his  Canadian  mis- 
sion had  worn  away  his  strength.  His  proud 
and  sensitive  spirit  could  ill  bear  the  contra- 
dictions and  humiliations  that  had  been  forced 
upon  him.  His  was  an  eager  and  a passion- 
ate nature,  full  of  that  soma  indignatio  which 
by  his  own  acknowledgment  tortured  the 
heart  of  Swift.  He  wanted  to  the  success  of 
his  political  career  that  proud  patience  which 
the  gods  are  said  to  love,  and  by  virtue  of 
which  great  men  live  down  misappreciation, 
and  hold  out  until  they  see  themselves  justi- 
fied and  hear  the  reproaches  turn  into 
cheers.  But  if  Lord  Durham’s  personal 
career  was  in  any  way  a failure,  his  policy 
for  the  Canadas  was  a splendid  success.  It 
established  the  principles  of  colonial  govern- 
ment. There  were  undoubtedly  defects  in 
the  construction  of  the  actual  scheme  which 
Lord  Durham  initiated,  and  which  Lord  Syd- 
enham, who  died  not  long  after  him,  in- 
stituted. The  legislative  union  of  the  two 
Canadas  was  in  itself  a makeshift,  and  was 
only  adopted  as  such.  Lord  Durham  would 
have  had  it  otherwise  if  he  might  ; but  he 
did  not  see  his  way  then  to  anything  like 
the  complete  federation  scheme  afterwards 
adopted.  But  the  success  of  the  policy  lay 
in  the  broad  principles  it  established,  and  to 
which  other  colonial  systems  as  well  as'  that 
of  the  Dominion  of  Canada  owe  their 
strength  and  security  to-day.  One  may  say, 
with  little  help  from  the  merely  fanciful, 
that  the  rejoicings  of  emancipated  colonies 
might  have  been  in  his  dying  ears  as  he  sank 
into  his  early  grave. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

SCIENCE  AND  SPEED. 

The  opening  of  the  reign  of  Queen  Vic- 
toria coincided  with  the  introduction  of 
many  of  the  great  discoveries  and  applica- 
tions in  science,  industry,  and  commerce 
which  we  consider  specially  representative 
of  modern  civilization.  A reign  which  saw 
in  its  earlier  years  the  application  of  the  elec- 
tric current  to  the  task  of  transmitting  mes- 
sages, the  first  successful  attempts  to  make 
use  of  steam  for  the  business  of  transatlan- 
tic navigation,  the  general  development  of 
the  railway  system  all  over  these  countries, 


and  the  introduction  of  the  penny  post,  must 
be  considered  to  have  obtained  for  itself,  had 
it  secured  no  other  memorials,  an  abiding 
place  in  history.  A distinguished  author  has 
lately  inveighed  against  the  spirit  which 
would  rank  such  improvements  as  those  just 
mentioned  with  the  genuine  triumphs  of  the 
human  race,  and  lias  gone  so  far  as  to  insist 
that  there  is  nothing  in  any  such  which 
might  not  be  expected  from  the  self-in- 
terested contrivings  of  a very  inferior  ani- 
mal nature.  Amid  the  tendency  to  glorify 
beyond  measure  the  mere  mechanical  im- 
provements of  modern  civilization,  it  is 
natural  that  there  should  arise  some  angry 
questioning,  some  fierce  disparagement  of  ail 
that  it  has  done.  There  will  always  be  na- 
tures to  which  the  philosophy  of  contempla- 
tion must  seem  far  nobler  than  the  philoso- 
phy which  expresses  itself  in  mechanical  ac- 
tion. It  may,  however,  be  taken  as  certain 
that  no  people  who  were  ever  great  in 
thought  and  in  art  wilfully  neglected  to  avail 
themselves  of  all  possible  contrivances  for 
making  life  less  laborious  by  the  means  of 
mechanical  and  artificial  contrivance.  The 
Greeks  were  to  the  best  of  their  opportunity, 
and  when  at  the  highest  point  of  their  glory 
as  an  artistic  race,  as  eager  for  the  applica- 
tion of  all  scientific  and  mechanical  contri- 
vances to  the  business  of  life  as  the  most 
practical  and  boastful  Manchester  man  or 
Chicago  man  of  our  own  day.  W e shall  after- 
wards see  that  the  reign  of  Queen  Victoria 
came  to  have  a literature,  an  art,  and  a phi- 
losophy distinctly  its  own.  For  the  moment 
we  have  to  do  with  its  industrial  science  ; or 
at  least  with  the  first  remarkable  movements 
in  that  direction  which  accompanied  the 
opening  of  the  reign.  This  at  least  must  be 
said  for  them,  that  they  have  changed  the 
conditions  of  human  life  for  us  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  make  the  history  of  the  past 
forty  or  fifty  years  almost  absolutely  distinct 
from  that  of  any  preceding  period.  In  all 
that  part  of  our  social  life  which  is  affected 
by  industrial  and  mechanical  appliances,  the 
man  of  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury was  less  widely  removed  from  the  Eng- 
lishman of  the  days  of  the  Paston  Letters  than 
we  are  removed  from  the  ways  of  the  eight- 
eenth century.  The  man  of  the  eighteenth 
century  travelled  on  land  and  sea  in  much  the 
same  way  that  his  forefathers  had  done  hun- 
dreds of  years  before.  His  communications 
by  letter  with  his  fellows  were  carried  on  in 
very  much  the  same  method.  He  got  his 
news  from  abroad  and  at  home  after  the  same 
slow  uncertain  fashion.  His  streets  and 
houses  were  lighted  very  much  as  they  might 
have  been  when  Mr.  Pepys  was  in  London. 
His  ideas  of  drainage  and  ventilation  were 
equally  elementary  and  simple.  We  see  a 
complete  revolution  in  all  these  things.  A 
man  of  the  present  day  suddenly  thrust  back 
fifty  years  in  life  would  find  himself  almost 
as  awkwardly  unsuited  to  the  ways  of  that 
time  as  if  he  were  sent  back  to  the  age  when 
the  Romans  occupied  Britain.  He  would 
find  himself  harassed  at  every  step  he  took. 
He  could  do  hardly  anything  as  he  does  it  to- 
day. Whatever  the  moral  and  philosoph- 
ical value  of  the  change  in  the  eyes  of 
thinkers  too  lofty  to  concern  themselves  with 
the  common  ways  and  doings  of  human  life, 
this  is  certain  at  least,  that  the  change  is  of 
immense  historical  importance,  and  that  even 
if  we  look  upon  life  as  a mere  pageant  and 
show,  interesting  to  wise  men  only  by  its 
curious  changes,  a wise  man  of  this  school 
could  hardly  have  done  better,  if  the  choice 
lay  with  him,  than  to  desire  that  the  lines  of 
his  life  might  be  so  cast  as  to  fall  into  the  ear- 
lier part  of  this  present  reign. 

It  is  a somewhat  curious  coincidence  that 
in  the  year  when  Professor  Wheatstone  and 
Mr.  Cooke  took  out  their  first  patent  ‘ ‘ for 
improvements  in  giving  signals  and  sounding 
alarms  in  distant  places  by  means  of  electric 
currents  transmitted  through  metallic  cir- 
cuit,” Professor  Morse,  the  American  elec- 


trician, applied  to  Congress  for  aid  in  the 
construction  and  carrying  on  of  a small  elec- 
tric telegraph  to  convey  messages  a short  dis- 
tance, and  made  the  application  without  suc- 
cess. Id  the  following  year  he  came  to  this 
country  to  obtain  a patent  for  his  invention  ; 
but  he  was  refused.  He  had  come  too  late. 
Our  own  countrymen  were  beforehand  with 
him.  Very  soon  after  we  find  experiments 
made  with  the  electric  telegraph  between 
Euston  Square  and  Camden  Town.  These 
experiments  were  made  under  the  authority 
of  the  London  and  North-Western  Railway 
Company,  immediately  on  the  taking  out  of 
the  patent  by  Messrs.  Wheatstone  and  Cooke. 
Mr.  Robert  Stephenson  was  one  of  those  who 
came  to  watch  the  operation  of  this  new  and 
wonderful  attempt  to  make  the  currents  of 
the  air  man’s  faithful  Ariel.  The  London 
and  Birmingham  Railway  was  opened 
through  its  whole  length  in  1838.  The  Liv- 
erpool and  Preston  line  was  opened  in  the 
same  year.  The  Liverpool  and  Birmingham 
had  been  opened  in  the  year  before  ; the 
London  and  Croydon  was  opened  the  year 
after.  The  Act  for  the  transmission  of  the 
mails  by  railways  was  passed  in  1838.  In 
the  same  year  it  was  noted  as  an  unparallel- 
ed, and  to  many  an  almost  incredible,  tri- 
umph of  human  energy  and  science  over  time 
and  space,  that  a locomotive  had  been  able 
to  travel  at  a speed  of  thirty-seven  miles  an 
hour. 

‘ 1 The  prospect  of  travelling  from  the  me- 
tropolis to  Liverpool,  a distance  of  210  miles, 
in  ten  hours,  calls  forcibly  to  mind  the  tales 
of  fairies  and  genii  by  which  we  were 
amused  in  our  youth,  and  contrasts  forcibly 
with  the  fact,  attested  on  the  personal  ex- 
perience of  the  writer  of  this  notice,  that 
about  the  commencement  of  the  present  cen- 
tury this  same  journey  occupied  a space 
of  sixty  hours.”  These  are  the  words  of 
a writer  who  gives  an  interesting  account 
of  the  railways  of  England  during  the  first 
year  of  the  reign  of  Queen  Victoria.  In  the 
same  volume  from  which  this  extract  is 
taken  an  allusion  is  made  to  the  possibility  of 
steam  communication  being  successfully  es- 
tablished between  England  and  the  United 
States.  “ Preparations  on  a gigantic  scale,” 
a writer  is  able  to  announce,  ‘ ‘ are  now  in  a 
state  of  great  forwardness  for  trying  an  ex- 
periment in  steam  navigation  which  has  been 
the  subject  of  much  controversy  among  scien- 
tific men.  Ships  of  an  enormous  size,  fur- 
nished with  steam  power  equal  to  the  force 
of  400  horses  and  upwards,  will,  before  our 
next  volume  shall  be  prepared,  have  proba- 
bly decided  the  question  whether  this  de- 
scription of  vessels  can,  in  the  present  state 
of  our  knowledge,  profitably  engage  in  Trans- 
atlantic voyages.  It  is  possible  that  these 
attempts  may  fail,  a result  which  is  indeed 
predicted  by  high  authorities  on  this  subject. 
We  are  more  sanguine  in  our  hopes  ; but 
should  these  be  disappointed,  we  cannot,  if 
we  are  to  judge  from  our  past  progress, 
doubt  that  longer  experience  and  a further 
application  of  inventive  genius  will  at  no 
very  distant  day  render  practicable  and  prof- 
itable by  this  means  the  longest  voyages  in 
which  the  adventurous  spirit  of  man  will 
lead  him  to  embark.”  The  experiment  thus 
alluded  to  was  made  with  perfect  success. 
The  Sirius,  the  Great  Western,  and  the  Royal 
William  accomplished  voyages  between  New 
York  and  this  country  in  the  early  part  of 
1838  ; and  it  was  remarked  that  ‘ ‘ Transat- 
lantic voyages  by  means  of  steam  may  now 
be  said  to  be  as  easy  of  accomplishment, 
with  ships  of  adequate  size  and  power,  as  the 
passage  between  London  and  Margate.” 
The  Great  Western  crossed  the  ocean  from 
Bristol  to  New  York  in  fifteen  days.  She 
was  followed  by  the  Sirius,  which  left  Cork 
for  New  York  and  made  the  passage  in  sev- 
enteen days.  The  controversy  as  to  the  pos- 
sibility of  such  voyages,  which  was  settled 
by  the  Great  Western  and  the  Sirius,  had  no 
reference  to  the  actual  safety  of  such  an  ex- 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


13 


periment.  During  seven  years  the  mails  for 
the  Mediterranean  had  been  despatched  by 
means  of  steamers.  The  doubt  was  as  to  the 
possibility  of  stowing  in  a vessel  so  large  a 
quantity  of  coal  or  other  fuel  as  would  enable 
her  to  accomplish  her  voyage  across  the  At- 
lantic, where  there  could  be  no  stopping  place 
and  no  possibility  of  taking  in  new  stores. 
It  was  found,  to  the  delight  of  all  those  who 
believed  in  the  practicability  of  the  enter- 
prise, that  the  quantity  of  fuel  which  each 
vessel  had  on  board  when  she  left  her  port  of 
departure  proved  amply  sufficient  for  the 
completion  of  the  voyage.  Neither  the  Sirius 
nor  the  Great  Western  was  the  first  vessel  to 
cross  the  Atlantic  by  means  of  steam  propul- 
sion. Nearly  twenty  years  before  a vessel 
called  the  Savannah,  built  at  New  York, 
crossed  the  ocean  to  Liverpool,  and  some 
years  later  an  English-built  steamer  made 
several  voyages  between  Holland  and  the 
Dutch  West  Indian  colonies  as  a packet  ves- 
sel in  the  service  of  that  Government.  In- 
deed, a voyage  had  been  made  round  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope  more  lately  still  by  a 
steamship.  These  expeditions,  however, 
had  really  little  or  nothing  to  do  with  the 
problem  which  was  solved  by  the  voyages  of 
the  Sirius  and  the  Great  Western.  In  the 
former  instances  the  steam  power  was  em- 
ployed merely  as  an  auxiliary.  The  vessel 
made  as  much  use  of  her  steam  propulsion 
as  she  could,  but  she  had  to  rely  a good  deal 
on  her  capacity  as  a sailer.  This  was  quite  a 
different  thing  from  the  enterprise  of  the 
Sirius  and  the  Great  Western,  which  was  to 
cross  the  ocean  by  steam  propulsion  and 
steam  propulsion  only.  It  is  evident  that  so 
long  as  the  steam  power  was  to  be  used  only 
as  an  auxiliary,  it  would  be  impossible  to 
reckon  on  speed  and  certainty  of  arrival. 
The  doubt  was  whether  a steamer  could 
carry,  with  her  cargo  and  passengers,  fuel 
enough  to  serve  for  the  whole  of  her  voyage 
across  the  Atlantic.  The  expeditions  of  the 
Sirius  and  the  Great  Western  settled  the 
whole  question.  It  was  never  again  a matter 
of  controversy.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  two 
years  after  the  Great  Western  went  out  from 
Bristol  to  New  York  the  Cunard  line  of  steam- 
ers was  established.  The  steam  communi- 
cation between  Liverpool  and  New  York  be- 
came thenceforth  as  regular  and  as  unvary- 
ing a part  of  the  business  of  commerce  as  the 
journeys  of  the  trains  on  the  Great  Western 
Railway  between  London  and  Bristol.  It 
was  not  Bristol  which  benefited  most  by  the 
Transatlantic  voyages  They  made  the  great- 
ness of  Liverpool.  Year  by  year  the  sceptre 
of  the  commercial  marine  passed  away  from 
Bristol  to  Liverpool.  No  port  in  the  world 
can  show  a line  of  docks  like  those  of  Liver- 
pool. There  the  stately  Mersey  flows  for 
miles  between  the  superb  and  massive  granite 
walls  of  the  enclosures  within  whose  shelter 
the  ships  of  the  world  are  arrayed  as  if  on 
parade  for  the  admiration  of  the  traveller  who 
lias  hitherto  been  accustomed  to  the  irregu- 
lar and  straggling  arrangements  of  the  docks 
of  London  or  of  New  York. 

On  July  5,  1839,  an  unusually  late  period 
of  the  year,  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer 
brought  forward  his  annual  budget.  The 
most  important  part  of  the  financial  state- 
ment, so  far  as  later  times  are  concerned,  is 
set  out  in  a resolution  proposed  by  the  finance 
minister,  which  perhaps  represents  the  great- 
est social  improvement  brought  about  by  leg- 
islation in  modern  times.  The  Chancellor 
proposed  a resolution  declaring  that  “ it  is 
expedient  to  reduce  the  postage  on  letters  to 
one  uniform  rate  of  one  penny  charged  upon 
every  letter  of  a weight  to  be  hereafter  fixed 
bylaw  ; Parliamentary  privileges  of  franking 
being  abolished  and  official  franking  strictly 
regulated  ; this  House  pledging  itself  at  the 
same  time  to  make  good  any  deficiency  of 
revenue  which  may  be  occasioned  by  such  an 
alteration  in  the  rates  of  the  existing  duties.  ’ ’ 
Up  to  this  time  the  rates  of  postage  had 
been  both  high  and  various.  They  were 


varying  both  as  to  distance  and  as  to  the 
weight  and  even  the  size  or  the  shape  of  a 
letter.  The  district  or  London  post  was  a 
separate  branch  of  the  postal  department  ; 
and  the  charge  for  the  transmission  of  letters 
was  made  on  a different  scale  in  London  from 
that  which  prevailed  between  town  and  town. 
The  average  postage  on  every  chargeable 
letter  throughout  the  United  Kingdom  was 
sixpence  farthing.  A letter  from  London  to 
Brighton  cost  eightpence  ; to  Aberdeen  one 
shilling  and  threepence  halfpenny  ; to  Bel- 
fast one  shilling  and  fourpence.  Nor  was 
this  all ; for  if  the  letter  were  written  on 
more  than  one  sheet  of  paper,  it  came  under 
the  operation  of  a higher  scale  of  charge. 
Members  of  Parliament  had  the  privilege  of 
franking  letters  to  a certain  limited  extent  ; 
members  of  the  Government  had  the  privilege 
of  franking  to  an  unlimited  extent.  It  is 
perhaps  as  well  to  mention,  for  the  sake  of 
being  intelligible  to  all  readers  in  an  age 
which  has  not,  in  this  country  at  least,  known 
practically  the  beauty  and  liberality  of  the 
franking  privilege,  that  it  consisted  in  the 
right  of  the  privileged  person  to  send  his  own 
or  any  other  person’s  letters  through  the  post 
free  of  charge  by  merely  writing  his  name 
on  the  outside.  This  meant,  in  plain  words, 
that  the  letters  of  the  class  who  could  best 
afford  to  pay  for  them  went  free  of  charge, 
and  that  those  who  could  least  afford  to  pay 
had  to  pay  double — the  expense,  that  is  to 
say,  of  carrying  their  own  letters  and  the  let- 
ters of  the  privileged  and  exempt. 

The  greatest  grievances  were  felt  every- 
where because  of  this  absurd  system.  It  had 
along  with  its  other  disadvantages  that  of 
encouraging  what  may  be  called  the  smug- 
gling of  letters.  Everywhere  sprang  up  or- 
ganizations for  the  illicit  conveyance  of  cor- 
respondence at  lower  rates  than  those  im- 
posed by  the  Government.  The  proprietors 
of  almost  every  kind  of  public  conveyance 
are  said  to  have  been  engaged  in  this  unlaw- 
ful but  certainly  not  very  unnatural  or  un- 
justifiable traffic.  Five  sixths  of  all  the  let- 
ters sent  between  Manchester  and  London 
were  said  to  have  been  conveyed  for  years  by 
this  process.  One  great  mercantile  house 
was  proved  to  have  been  in  the  habit  of  send- 
ing sixty-seven  letters  by  what  we  may  call 
this  underground  post-office  for  every  one  on 
which  they  paid  the  Government  charges. 
It  was  not  merely  to  escape  heavy  cost  that 
these  stratagems  were  employed.  As  there 
was  an  additional  charge  when  a letter  was 
written  on  more  sheets  than  one,  there  was  a 
frequent  and  almost  a constant  tampering 
by  officials  with  the  sanctity  of  sealed  letters 
for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  whether  or 
not  they  ought  to  be  taxed  on  the  higher  scale. 
It  was  proved  that  in  the  years  between  1815 
and  1835,  while  the  population  had  increased 
thirty  per  cent.,  and  the  stage-coach  duty 
had  increased  one  hundred  and  twenty-eight 
per  cent.,  the  post-office  revenues  had  shown 
no  increase  at  all.  In  other  countries  the 
postal  revenue  had  been  on  the  increase 
steadily  during  that  time  ; in  the  United 
States  the  revenue  had  actually  trebled, 
although  then  and  later  the  postal  system  of 
America  was  full  of  faults  which  at  that  day 
only  seemed  intelligible  or  excusable  when 
placed  in  comparison  with  those  of  our  own 
system. 

Mr.  (afterwards  Sir  Rowland)  Hill  is  the 
man  to  whom  this  country,  and  indeed  all 
civilization,  owes  the  adoption  of  the  cheap 
and  uniform  system.  His  plan  has  been 
adopted  by  every  State  which  professes  to 
have  a postal  system  at  all.  Mr.  Hill  be- 
longed to  a remarkable  family.  His  father, 
Thomas  Wright  Hill,  was  a teacher,  a man 
of  advanced  and  practical  views  in  popular 
education,  a devoted  lover  of  science,  an  ad- 
vocate of  civil  and  religious  liberty,  and  a 
sort  of  celebrity  in  the  Birmingham  of  his 
day,  where  he  took  a bold  and  active  part  in 
trying  to  defend  the  house  of  Dr.  Priestley 
against  the  mob  who  attacked  it.  He  had 


five  sons,  every  one  of  whom  made  himself 
more  or  less  conspicuous  as  a practical  re- 
former in  one  path  or  another.  The  eldest 
of  the  sons  was  Matthew  Davenport  Hill, 
the  philanthropic  recorder  of  Birmingham, 
who  did  so  much  for  prison  reform  and  for 
the  reclamation  of  juvenile  offenders.  The 
third  son  was  Rowland  Hill,  the  author  of 
the  cheap  postal  system.  Rowland  Hill 
when  a little  weakly  child  began  to  show 
some  such  precocious  love  for  arithmetical 
calculations  as  Pascal  showed  for  mathemat- 
ics. His  favorite  amusement  as  a child  was 
to  lie  on  the  hearthrug  and  count  up  figures 
by  the  hour  together.  As  he  grew  up  he  be 
came  teacher  of  mathematics  in  his  father’s 
school.  Afterwards  he  was  appointed  Secre- 
tary to  the  South  Australian  Commission,  and 
rendered  much  valuable  service  in  the  organ- 
ization of  the  colony  of  South  Australia. 
His  early  love  of  masses  of  figures  it  may 
have  been  which  in  the  first  instance  turned 
his  attention  to  the  number  of  letters  passing 
through  the  Post  Office,  the  proportion  they 
bore  to  the  number  of  the  population,  the 
cost  of  carrying  them,  and  the  amount  which 
the  Post  Office  authorities  charged  for  the 
conveyance  of  a single  letter.  A picturesque 
and  touching  little  illustration  of  the  veritable 
hardships  of  the  existing  system  seems  to 
have  quickened  his  interest  in  a reform  of  it. 
Miss  Martineau  thus  tells  the  story  : 

“ Coleridge,  when  a young  man,  was  walk- 
ing through  the  Lake  district,  when  he  one 
day  saw  the  postman  deliver  a letter  to  a 
woman  at  a cottage  door.  The  woman 
turned  it  over  and  examined  it,  and  then  re- 
turned it,  saying  she  could  not  pay  the  post- 
age, which  was  a shilling.  Hearing  that  the 
letter  was  from  her  brother,  Coleridge  paid 
the  postage,  in  spite  of  the  manifest  unwilling- 
ness of  the  woman.  As  soon  as  the  postman 
was  out  of  sight  she  showed  Coleridge  how 
his  money  had  been  wasted  as  far  as  she 
was  concerned.  The  sheet  was  blank.  There 
was  an  agreement  between  her  brother  and 
herself  that  as  long  as  all  went  well  with  him 
he  should  send  a blank  sheet  in  this  way 
once  a quarter  ; and  she  thus  had  tidings  of 
him  without  expense  of  postage.  Most  per- 
sons would  have  remembered  this  incident 
as  a curious  story  to  tell  ; but  there  was  one 
mind  which  wakened  up  at  once  to  a sense 
of  the  significance  of  the  fact.  It  struck  Mr. 
Rowland  Hill  that  there  must  be  something 
wrong  in  a system  which  drove  a brother 
and  sister  to  cheating,  in  order  to  gratify 
their  desire  to  hear  of  one  another’s  welfare.  ” 

Mr.  Hill  gradually  worked  out  for  himself 
a comprehensive  scheme  of  reform.  He  put 
it  before  the  world  early  in  1837.  The  pub- 
lic were  taken  by  surprise  when  the  plan 
came  before  them  in  the  shape  of  a pamphlet 
which  its  author  modestly  entitled  “ Post 
Office  Reform  ; its  importance  and  practica- 
bility.” The  root  of  Mr.  Hill’s  system  lay 
in  the  fact,  made  evident  by  him  beyond  dis- 
pute, that  the  actual  cost  of  the  conveyance 
of  letters  through  the  post  was  very  trifling, 
and  was  but  little  increased  by  the  distance 
over  which  they  had  to  be  carried. 

His  proposal  was  therefore  that  the  rates 
of  postage  should  be  diminished  to  the  mini- 
mum ; that  at  the  same  time  the  speed  of 
conveyance  should  be  increased,  and  that 
there  should  be  much  greater  frequency  of 
despatch.  His  principle  was,  in  fact,  the 
very  opposite  of  that  which  had  prevailed  in 
the  calculations  of  the  authorities.  Their 
idea  was  that  the  higher  the  charge  for  let- 
ters the  greater  the  return  to  the  revenue. 
He  started  on  the  assumption  that  the  smaller 
the  charge  the  greater  the  profit.  He  there- 
fore recommended  the  substitution  of  one 
uniform  charge  of  one  penny  the  half -ounce, 
without  reference  to  the  distance  within  the 
limits  of  the  United  Kingdom  which  the  let- 
ter had  to  be  carried.  The  Post  Office 
authorities  were  at  first  uncompromising  in 
their  opposition  to  the  scheme.  The  Post- 
master-General, Lord  Lichfield,  said  in  the 


14 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


House  of  Lords,  that  of  all  the  wild  and  ex- 
travagant schemes  he  had  ever  heard  of,  it 
was  the  wildest  and  most  extravagant. 
“The  mails,”  he  said,  “will  have  to  carry 
twelve  times  as  much  weight,  and  therefore 
the  charge  for  transmission,  instead  of  100,- 
000^.,  as  now,  must  be  twelve  times  that 
amount.  The  walls  of  the  Post  Office  would 
burst,  the  whole  area  in  which  the  building 
stands  would  not  be  large  enough  to  receive 
the  clerks  and  the  letters.  ” It  is  impossible 
not  to  be  struck  by  the  paradoxical  peculiar- 
ity of  this  argument.  Because  the  change 
would  be  so  much  welcomed  by  the  public, 
Lord  Lichfield  argued  that  it  ought  not  to  be 
made.  He  did  not  fall  back  upon  the  then 
familiar  assertion  that  the  public  would  not 
send  anything  like  the  number  of  letters  the 
advocates  of  the  scheme  expected.  He 
argued  that  they  would  send  so  many  as  to 
make  it  troublesome  for  the  Post  Office 
authorities  to  deal  with  them.  In  plain 
words,  it  would  be  such  an  immense  accom- 
modation to  the  population  in  general,  that 
the  officials  could  not  undertake  the  trouble 
of  carrying  it  into  effect.  Another  Post 
Office  official,  Colonei  Maberley,  was  at  all 
events  more  liberal.  “ My  constant  lan- 
guage,” he  said  afterwards,  “to  the  heads 
of  the  departments  was — This  plan  we  know 
will  fail.  It  is  our  duty  to  take  care  that  no 
obstruction  is  placed  in  the  way  of  it  by  the 
heads  of  the  department,  and  by  the  Post 
Olfice.  The  allegation,  I have  not  the  least 
doubt,  will  be  made  at  a subsequent  period, 
that  this  plan  has  failed  in  consequence  of 
the  unwillingness  of  the  Government  to  carry 
it  into  fair  execution.  It  is  our  duty  as  ser- 
vants of  the  Government  to  take  care  that  no 
blame  eventually  shall  fall  on  the  Govern- 
ment through  any  unwillingness  of  ours  to 
carry  it  into  proper  effect.”  It  is,  perhaps, 
less  surprising  that  the  routine  mind  of 
officials  should  have  seen  no  future  but  fail- 
ure for  the  scheme,  when  so  vigorous  and 
untrammelled  a thinker  as  Sydney  Smith 
spoke  with  anger  and  contempt  of  the  fact 
that  “ a million  of  revenue  is  given  up  in 
the  nonsensical  Penny  Post  scheme,  to  please 
my  old,  excellent,  and  universally  dissentient 
friend,  Noah  Warburton.”  Mr.  Warburton 
was  then  member  for  Bridport,  and  with  Mr. 
Wallace,  another  member  of  Parliament, 
was  very  active  in  supporting  and  promoting 
the  views  of  Mr.  Hill.  “ I admire  the  Whig 
Ministry,”  Sydney  Smith  went  on  to  say, 
“ and  think  they  have  done  more  good  things 
than  all  the  ministries  since  the  Revolution  ; 
but  these  concessions  are  sad  and  unworthy 
marks  of  weakness,  and  fill  reasonable  men 
with  alarm.” 

It  will  be  seen  from  this  remark  alone  that 
the  Ministry  had  yielded  somewhat  more 
readily  than  might  have  been  expected  to  the 
arguments  of  Mr.  Hill.  At  the  time  his 
pamphlet  appeared  a commission  was  actually 
engaged  in  inquiring  into  the  condition  of 
the  Post  Office  department.  Their  attention 
was  drawn  to  Mr.  Hill’s  plan,  and  they  gave 
it  a careful  consideration,  and  reported  in  its 
favor,  although  the  Post  Office  authorities 
were  convinced  that  it  must  involve  an  un- 
bearable loss  of  revenue.  In  Parliament  Mr. 
Wallace,  whose  name  has  been  already  men- 
tioned, moved  for  a committee  to  inquire  into 
the  whole  subject,  and  especially  to  examine 
the  mode  recommended  for  charging  and  col- 
lecting postage  in  the  pamphlet  of  Mr.  Hill. 
The  committee  gave  the  subject  a very  pa- 
tient consideration,  and  at  length  made  a re- 
port recommending  uniform  charges  and  pre- 
payment by  stamps.  That  part  of  Mr.  Hill’s 
plan  which  suggested  the  use  of  postage 
stamps  was  adopted  by  him  on  the  advice  of 
Mr.  Charles  Knight.  The  Government  took 
up  the  scheme  with  some  spirit  and  liberality. 
The  revenue  that  year  showed  a deficiency, 
but  they  determined  to  run  the  further  risk 
which  the  proposal  involved.  The  commer- 
cial community  had  naturally  been  stirred 
greatly  by  the  project  which  promised  so 


much  relief  and  advantage.  Sydney  Smith 
was  very  much  mistaken  indeed  when  he  fan- 
cied that  it  was  only  to  please  his  old  and 
excellent  friend,  Mr.  Warburton,  that  the 
Ministry  gave  way  to  the  innovation.  Pe- 
titions from  all  the  commercial  communities 
were  pouring  in  to  support  the  plan,  and  to 
ask  that  at  least  it  should  have  a fair  trial. 
The  Government  at  length  determined  to 
bring  in  a bill  which  should  provide  for  the 
almost  immediate  introduction  of  Mr.  Hill’s 
scheme,  and  for  the  abolition  of  the  franking 
system  except  in  the  case  of  official  letters 
actually  sent  on  business  directly  belonging 
to  her  Majesty’s  service.  The  bill  declared, 
as  an  introductory  step,  that  the  charge  for 
postage  should  be  at  the  rate  of  fourpence 
for  each  letter  under  half  an  ounce  in 
weight,  irrespective  of  distance,  within  the 
limits  of  the  United  Kingdom.  This,  how- 
ever, was  to  be  only  a beginning ; for  on 
January  10,  1840,  the  postage  was  fixed  at 
the  uniform  rate  of  one  penny  per  letter  of 
not  more  than  half  an  ounce  in  weight.  The 
introductory  measure  was  not,  of  course, 
carried  without  opposition  in  both  Houses  of 
Parliament.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  in  his 
characteristic  way  declared  that  he  strongly 
objected  to  the  scheme,  but  as  the  Govern- 
ment had  evidently  set  their  hearts  upon  it, 
he  recommended  the  House  of  Lords  not  to 
offer  any  opposition  to  it.  In  the  House  of 
Commons  it  was  opposed  by  Sir  Robert  Peel 
and  Mr.  Goulburn,  both  of  whom  strongly 
condemned  the  whole  scheme  as  likely  to 
involve  the  country  in  vast  loss  of  revenue. 
The  measure,  however,  passed  into  law. 
Some  idea  of  the  effect  it  has  produced  upon 
the  postal  correspondence  of  the  country  may 
be  gathered  from  the  fact  that  in  1839,  the 
last  year  of  the  heavy  postage,  the  number 
of  letters  delivered  in  Great  Britain  and  Ire- 
land was  a little  more  than  eighty-two  mil- 
lions, which  included  some  five  millions  and 
a half  of  franked  letters  returning  nothing  to 
the  revenues  of  the  country  ; whereas,  in 
1875,  more  than  a thousand  millions  of  let- 
ters were  delivered  in  the  United  Kingdom. 
The  population  during  the  same  time  has  not 
nearly  doubled  itself.  It  has  already  been  re- 
marked that  the  principle  of  Sir  Rowland 
Hill’s  reform  has  since  been  put  into  opera- 
tion in  every  civilized  country  in  the  world. 
It  may  be  added  that  before  long  we  shall  in 
all  human  probability  see  an  inter-oceanic 
postage  established  at  a rate  as  low  as  people 
sometimes  thought  Sir  Rowland  Hill  a mad- 
man for  recommending  as  applicable  to  our 
inland  post.  The  time  is  not  far  distant 
when  a letter  will  be  carried  from  London  to 
San  Francisco,  or  to  Tokio  in  Japan,  at  a 
rate  of  charge  as  small  as  that  which  made 
financiers  stare  and  laugh  when  it  was  sug- 
gested as  profitable  remuneration  for  carry- 
ing a letter  from  London  to  the  towns  of  Sus- 
sex or  Hertfordshire.  The  “ Penny  Post,” 
let  it  be  said,  is  an  older  institution  than  that 
which  Sir  Rowland  Hill  introduced.  A 
penny  post  for  the  conveyance  of  letters  had 
been  set  up  in  London  so  long  ago  as  1683  ; 
and  it  was  adopted  or  annexed  by  the  Gov- 
ernment some  years  after.  An  effort  was 
even  made  to  set  up  a halfpenny  post  in  Lon- 
don, in  opposition  to  the  official  penny  post, 
in  1708  ; but  the  Government  soon  crushed 
this  vexatious  and  intrusive  rival.  In  1738 
Dr.  Johnson  writes  to  Mr.  Cave  “ to  entreat 
that  you  will  be  pleased  to  inform  me,  by 
the  penny  post,  whether  you  resolve  to  print 
the  poem.”  After  awhile  the  Government 
changed  their  penny  post  to  a twopenny  post, 
and  gradually  made  a distinction  between 
district  and  other  postal  systems,  and  con- 
trived to  swell  the  price  for  deliveries  of  all 
kinds.  Long  before  even  this  time  of  the 
penny  post,  the  old  records  of  the  city  of 
Bristol  contain  an  account  of  the  payment  of 
one  penny  for  the  carriage  of  letters  to  Lon- 
don. It  need  hardly  be  explained,  however, 
that  a penny  in  that  time,  or  even  in  1683, 
was  a payment  of  very  different  value  indeed 


from  the  modest  sum  which  Sir  Rowland 
Hill  was  successful  in  establishing.  The 
ancient  penny  post  resembled  the  modem 
penny  post  only  in  name. 

CHAPTER  Y. 

CHARTISM. 

It  cannot,  however,  be  said  that  all  the 
omens  under  which  the  new  Queen’s  reign 
opened  at  home  were  as  auspicious  as  the  co- 
incidences wnich  made  it  contemporary  with 
the  first  chapters  of  these  new  and  noble  de- 
velopments in  the  history  of  science  and  in- 
vention. On  the  contrary,  it  began  amid 
many  grim  and  unpromising  conditions  in 
our  social  affairs.  The  winter  of  1837-8  was 
one  of  unusual  severity  and  distress.  There 
would  have  been  much  discontent  and  grum- 
bling in  any  case  among  the  class  described 
by  French  writers  as  the  proletaire  ; but  the 
complaints  were  aggravated  by  a common 
belief  that  the  young  Queen  was  wholly  un- 
der the  influence  of  a frivolous  and  selfish 
minister,  who  occupied  her  with  amusements 
while  the  poor  were  starving.  It  does  not 
appear  that  there  was  at  any  time  the  slight- 
est justification  for  such  a belief  ; but  it  pre- 
vailed among  the  working  classes  and  the 
poor  very  generally,  and  added  to  the  suffer- 
ings of  genuine  want  the  bitterness  of  imag- 
inary wrong.  Popular  education  was  little 
looked  after  ; so  far  as  the  State  was  con- 
cerned, might  be  said  not  to  be  looked  after 
at  all.  The  laws  of  political  economy  were 
as  yet  only  within  the  appreciation  of  a few, 
who  were  regarded  not  uncommonly,  because 
of  their  theories,  somewhat  as  phrenologists 
or  mesmerists  might  be  looked  on  in  a more 
enlightened  time.  Some  writers  have  made 
a great  deal  of  the  case  of  Thom  and  his  dis- 
ciples as  evidence  of  the  extraordinary  igno- 
rance that  prevailed.  Thom  was  a broken- 
down  brewer,  and  in  fact  a madman,  who 
had  for  some  time  been  going  about  in  Can- 
terbury and  other  parts  of  Kent  bedizened  in 
fantastic  costume,  and  styling  himself  at  first 
Sir  William  Courtenay,  of  Powderham  Cas- 
tle, Knight  of  Malta,  King  of  Jerusalem,  king 
of  the  gypsy  races,  and  we  know  not  what 
else.  He  announced  himself  as  a great  po- 
litical reformer,  and  for  awhile  he  succeeded 
in  getting  many  to  believe  in  and  support 
him.  He  was  afterwards  confined  for  some 
time  in  a lunatic  asylum,  and  when  he  came 
out  he  presented  himself  to  th  ignorant 
peasantry  in  the  character  of  a second  Mes- 
siah. He  found  many  followers  and  be- 
lievers again,  among  a humbler  class  indeed 
than  those  whom  he  had  formerly  won  over. 
Much  of  his  influence  over  the  poor  Kentish 
laborers  was  due  to  his  denunciations  of  'he 
new  Poor  Law,  which  was  then  popularly 
hated  and  feared  with  an  almost  insane  in- 
tensity of  feeling.  Thom  told  them  he  had 
come  to  regenerate  the  whole  world,  and  also 
to  save  his  followers  from  the  new  Poor  Law  ; 
and  the  latter  announcement  commended  the 
former.  He  assembled  a crowd  of  his  sup- 
porters, and  undertook  to  lead  them  to  an  at- 
tack on  Canterbury.  With  his  own  hand  he 
shot  dead  a policeman  who  endeavored  to 
oppose  his  movements,  exactly  as  a saviour  of 
society  of  bolder  pretensions  and  greater  suc- 
cess did  at  Boulogne  not  long  after.  Two 
companies  of  soldiers  came  out  from  Canter- 
bury to  disperse  the  rioters.  The  officer  in 
command  was  shot  dead  by  Thom.  Thom’s 
followers  then  charged  the  unexpecting  sol- 
diers so  fiercely  that  for  a moment  there  was 
some  confusion  ; but  the  second  company 
fired  a volley  which  stretched  Thom  and 
several  of  his  adherents  lifeless  on  the  field. 
That  was  an  end  of  the  rising.  Several  of 
Thom's  followers  were  afterwards  tried  for 
murder,  convicted,  and  sentenced  ; but  some 
pity  was  felt  for  their  ignorance  and  their 
delusion,  and  they  were  not  consigned  to 
death.  Long  after  the  fall  of  their  preposter- 
ous hero  and  saint,  many  of  Thom’s  disciples 
believed  that  he  would  return  from  the  grave 
to  carry  out  the  promised  work  of  his  mis- 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


15 


sion.  All  this  was  lamentable,  but  could 
hardly  be  regarded  as  specially  characteristic 
of  the  early  years  of  the  present  reign.  The 
Thom  delusion  was  not  much  more  absurd 
than  the  Tichborne  mania  of  a later  day. 
Down  to  our  own  time  there  are  men  and 
women  among  the  Social  Democrats  of  cul- 
tured Germany  who  still  cherish  the  hope 
that  their  idol  Ferdinand  Lassalle  will  come 
back  from  the  dead  to  lead  and  guide  them. 

But  there  were  political  and  social  dangers 
in  the  opening  of  the  present  reign  more  seri- 
ous than  any  that  could  have  been  conjured 
up  by  a crazy  man  in  a fantastic  dress. 
There  were  delusions  having  deeper  roots 
and  showing  a more  inviting  shelter  than 
any  that  a religious  fanatic  of  the  vulgar  type 
Could  cause  to  spring  up  in  our  society. 

Only  a few  weeks  after  the  coronation  of 
the  Queen  a great  Radical  meeting  was  held 
in  Birmingham.  A manifesto  was  adopted 
there  which  afterwards  came  to  be  known  as 
the  Chartist  petition.  With  that  moment 
Chartism  began  to  be  one  of  the  most  dis- 
turbing influences  of  the  political  life  of  the 
country.  It  is  a movement  which,  although 
its  influence  may  now  be  said  to  have  wholly 
passed  away,  well  deserves  to  have  its  his- 
tory fully  written.  For  ten  years  it  agitated 
England.  It  sometimes  seemed  to  threaten 
an  actual  uprising  of  all  the  proletaire  against 
what  were  then  the  political  and  social  in- 
stitutions of  the  country.  It  might  have 
been  a very  serious  danger  if  the  State  had 
been  involved  in  any  external  difficulties.  It 
was  backed  by  much  genuine  enthusiasm, 
passion,  and  intelligence.  It  appealed  strong- 
ly and  naturally  to  whatever  there  was  of 
discontent  among  the  working  classes.  It 
afforded  a most  acceptable  and  convenient 
means  by  which  ambitious  politicians  of  the 
self-seeking  order  could  raise  themselves  into 
temporary  importance.  Its  fierce  and  fitful 
flame  went  out  at  last  under  the  influence  of 
the  clear,  strong,  and  steady  light  of  political 
reform  and  education.  The  one  great  lesson 
it  teaches  is,  that  political  agitation  lives  and 
is  formidable  only  by  virtue  of  what  is  rea- 
sonable in  its  demands.  Thousands  of 
ignorant  and  miserable  men  all  over  the 
country  joined  the  Chartist  agitation  who 
cared  nothing  about  the  substantial  value  of 
its  political  claims.  They  were  poor,  they 
were  overworked,  they  were  badly  paid, 
their  lives  were  altogether  wretched.  They 
got  into  their  heads  some  wild  idea  that  the 
People’s  Charter  would  give  them  better 
food  and  wages  and  lighter  work  if  it  were 
obtained,  and  that  for  that  very  reason  the 
aristocrats  and  the  officials  would  not  grant 
it.  No  political  concessions  could  really 
have  satisfied  these  men.  If  the  Charter  had 
been  granted  in  1838,  they  would  no  doubt 
have  been  as  dissatisfied  as  ever  in  1839. 
But  the  discontent  of  these  poor  creatures 
would  have  brought  with  it  little  danger  to 
the  State  if  it  had  not  become  part  of  the  sup- 
port of  an  organization  which  could  show 
some  sound  and  good  reason  for  the  demands 
it  made.  The  moment  that  the  clear  and 
practical  political  grievances  were  dealt  with, 
the  organization  melted  away.  Vague  dis- 
content, however  natural  and  excusable  it 
may  be,  is  only  formidable  in  politics  when 
it  helps  to  swell  the  strength  and  the  num- 
bers of  a crowd  which  calls  for  some  reform 
that  can  be  made  and  is  withheld.  One  of 
the  vulgarest  fallacies  of  statecraft  is  to  de- 
clare that  it  is  of  no  use  granting  the  re- 
forms which  would  satisfy  reasonable  de- 
mands, because  there  are  still  unreasonable 
agitators  whom  these  will  not  satisfy.  Get 
the  reasonable  men  on  your  side,  and  you 
need  not  fear  the  unreasonable.  This  is  the 
lesson  taught  to  statesmen  by  the  Chartist 
agitation. 

A funeral  oration  over  Chartism  was  pro- 
nounced by  Sir  John  Campbell,  then  Attor- 
ney-General, afterwards  Lord  Chief  Justice 
Campbell,  at  a public  dinner  at  Edinburgh 
ou  October  24,  1839.  He  spoke  at  some 


length  and  with  much  complacency  of  Chart- 
ism as  an  agitation  which  had  passed  away. 
Some  ten  days  afterwards  occurred  the  most 
formidable  outburst  of  Chartism  that  had 
been  known  up  to  that  time,  and  Chartism 
continued  to  be  an  active  and  a disturbing 
influence  in  England  for  nearly  ten  years 
after.  If  Sir  John  Campbell  had  told  his 
friends  and  constituents  at  the  Edinburgh 
dinner  that  the  influence  of  Chartism  was 
just  about  to  make  itself  really  felt,  he  would 
have  shown  himself  a somewhat  more  acute 
politician  than  we  now  understand  him  to 
be.  Seldom  has  a public  man  setting  up  to 
be  a political  authority  made  a worse  hit  than 
he  did  in  that  memorable  declaration.  Camp- 
bell was  indeed  only  a clever,  shrewd  lawyer 
of  the  hard  and  narrow  class.  He  never 
made  any  pretension  to  statesmanship,  or 
even  to  great  political  knowledge ; and  his 
unfortunate  blunder  might  be  passed  over 
without  notice  were  it  not  that  it  illustrates 
fairly  enough  the  manner  in  which  men  of 
better  information  and  judgment  than  he 
were  at  that  time  in  the  habit  of  disposing  of 
all  inconvenient  political  problems.  The  At- 
torney-General was  aware  that  there  had 
been  a few  riots  and  a few  arrests,  and  that 
the  law  had  been  what  he  would  call  vindi- 
cated ; and  as  he  had  no  manner  of  sympa- 
thy with  the  motives  which  could  lead  men 
to  distress  themselves  and  their  friends  about 
imaginary  charters,  he  assumed  that  there 
was  an  end  of  the  matter.  It  did  not  occur 
to  him  to  ask  himself  whether  there  might 
not  be  some  underlying  causes  to  explain  if 
not  to  excuse  the  agitation  that  just  then  be- 
gan to  disturb  the  country,  and  that  con- 
tinued to  disturb  it  for  so  many  years.  Even 
if  he  had  inquired  into  the  subject,  it  is  not 
likely  that  he  would  have  come  to  any  wiser 
conclusion  about  it.  The  dramatic  instinct, 
if  we  may  be  allowed  to  call  it  so,  which  en- 
ables a man  to  put  himself  for  the  moment 
into  the  condition  and  mood  of  men  entirely 
unlike  himself  in  feelings  and  conditions,  is 
an  indispensable  element  of  real  statesman- 
ship ; but  it  is  the  rarest  of  all  gifts  among 
politicians  of  the  second  order.  If  Sir  John 
Campbell  had  turned  his  attention  to  the 
Chartist  question,  he  would  only  have  found 
that  a number  of  men,  for  the  most  part  poor 
and  ignorant,  were  complaining  of  grievances 
where  he  could  not  for  himself  see  any  sub- 
stantial grievances  at  all.  That  would  have 
been  enough  for  him.  If  a solid,  wealthy, 
and  rising  lawyer  could  not  see  any  cause  for 
grumbling,  he  would  have  made  up  his  mind 
that  no  reasonable  persons  worthy  the  con- 
sideration of  sensible  legislators  would  con- 
tinue to  grumble  after  they  had  been  told  by 
those  in  authority  that  it  was  their  business 
to  keep  quiet.  But  if  he  had,  on  the  other 
hand,  looked  with  the  light  of  sympathetic 
intelligence,  of  that  dramatic  instinct  which 
has  just  been  mentioned,  at  the  condition  of 
the  classes  among  whom  Chartism  was  then 
rife,  he  would  have  seen  that  it  was  not  like- 
ly the  agitation  could  be  put  down  by  a few 
prosecutions  and  a few  arrests,  and  the  cen- 
sure of  a prosperous  Attorney-General.  He 
would  have  seen  that  Chartism  was  not  a 
cause  but  a consequence.  The  intelligence 
of  a very  ordinary  man  who  approached  the 
question  in  an  impartial  mood  might  have 
seen  that  Chartism  was  the  expression  of  a 
vague  discontent  with  very  positive  griev- 
ances and  evils. 

We  have  in  our  time  outlived  the  days 
of  political  abstractions.  The  catch-words 
which  thrilled  our  forefathers  with  emotion 
on  one  side  or  the  other  fall  with  hardly  any 
meaning  on  our  ears.  We  smile  at  such 
phrases  as  “ the  rights  of  man."  We  hardly 
know  what  is  meant  by  talking  of  “ the  peo- 
ple” as  the  words  were  used  long  ago  when 
“ the  people”  was  understood  to  mean  a vast 
mass  of  wronged  persons  who  had  no  repre- 
sentation and  were  oppressed  by  privilege 
and  the  aristocracy.  We  seldom  talk  of 
| “ liberty  any  one  venturing  to  found  a 


theory  cr  even  a declamation  on  some  sup- 
posed deprival  of  liberty  would  soon  find 
himself  in  the  awkward  position  of  being 
called  on  to  give  a scientific  definition  of 
what  he  understood  liberty  to  be.  He  would 
be  as  much  puzzled  as  were  certain  English 
workingmen,  who.  desiring  to  express  to  Mr. 
John  Stuart  Mill  their  sympathy  with  what 
they  called  in  the  slang  of  continental  democ- 
racy “ the  Revolution,”  were  calmly  bidden 
by  the  great  Liberal  thinker  to  ask  them- 
selves what  they  meant  by  “ the  Revolu- 
tion,” which  revolution,  what  revolution, 
and  why  they  sympathized  with  it.  But 
perhaps  we  are  all  a little  too  apt  to  think 
that  because  these  abstractions  have  no  liv- 
ing meaning  now  they  never  had  any  living 
meaning  at  all.  They  convey  no  manner  of 
clear  idea  in  England  now,  but  it  does  not 
by  any  means  follow  that  they  never  con- 
veyed any  such  idea.  The  phrase  which  Mr. 
Mill  so  properly  condemned  when  he  found 
it  in  the  mouths  of  English  workingmen 
had  a very  intelligible  and  distinct  meaning 
when  it  first  came  to  be  used  in  France  and 
throughout  the  Continent.  “ The  Revolu- 
tion” expressed  a clear  reality,  as  recogniza- 
ble by  the  intelligence  of  all  who  heard  it  as 
the  name  of  Free  Trade  or  of  Ultramontanism 
to  men  of  our  time.  “The  Revolution” 
was  the  principle  which  was  asserting  all 
over  Europe  the  overthrow  of  the  old  abso- 
lute power  of  kings,  and  it  described  it  just 
as  well  as  any  word  could  do.  It  is  mean- 
ingless in  our  day  for  the  very  reason  that  it 
was  full  of  meaning  then.  So  it  was  with 
“ the  people”  and  “ the  rights  of  the  peo- 
ple” and  the  “ rights  of  labor,”  and  all  the 
other  grandiloquent  phrases  which  seem  to 
us  so  empty  and  so  meaningless  now.  They 
are  empty  and  meaningless  at  the  present 
hour  ; but  they  have  no  application  now 
chiefly  because  they  had  application  then. 

The  Reform  Bill  of  1832  had  been  neces- 
sarily and  perhaps  naturally  a class  measure. 
It  had  done  great  things  for  the  constitutional 
system  of  England.  It  had  averted  a revo- 
lution which  without  some  such  concession 
would  probably  have  been  inevitable.  It 
had  settled  forever  the  question  which  was 
so  fiercely  and  so  gravely  debated  during  the 
discussions  of  the  reform  years,  whether  the 
English  Constitution  is  or  is  not  based  upon 
a system  of  popular  representation.  To  many 
at  present  it  may  seem  hardly  credible  that 
sane  men  could  have  denied  the  existence  of 
the  representative  principle.  But  during  the 
debates  on  the  great  Reform  Bill  such  a de- 
nial was  the  strong  point  of  many  of  the  lead- 
ing opponents  of  the  measure,  including  the 
Duke  of  Wellington  himself.  The  principle 
of  the  Constitution,  it  was  soberly  argued,  is 
that  the  Sovereign  invites  whatever  commu- 
nities or  interests  he  thinks  fit  to  send  in  per- 
sons to  Parliament  to  take  council  with  him 
on  the  affairs  of  the  nation.  This  idea  was 
got  rid  of  by  the  Reform  Bill.  That  bill 
abolished  fifty-six  nomination  or  rotten 
boroughs,  and  took  away  half  the  represen- 
tation from  thirty  others  ; it  disposed  of  the 
seats  thus  obtained  by  giving  sixty-five  ad- 
ditional representatives  to  the  counties,  and 
conferring  the  right  of  returning  members  on 
Manchester,  Leeds,  Birmingham,  and  some 
thirty-nine  large  and  prosperous  towns  which 
had  previously  had  no  representation ; 
while,  as  Lord  John  Russell  said  in  his 
speech  when  he  introduced  the  bill  in  March, 
1831,  “ a ruined  mound”  sent  two  represent- 
atives to  Parliament ; “ three  niches  in  a 
stone  wall”  sent  two  representatives  to  Par- 
liament ; “ a park  where  no  houses  were  to 
be  seen”  sent  two  representatives  to  Parlia- 
ment. The  bill  introduced  a 10Z.  household 
qualification  for  boroughs,  and  extended  the 
county  franchise  to  leaseholders  and  copy- 
holders.  But  it  left  the  working  classes  al- 
most altogether  out  of  the  franchise.  *Not 
merely  did  it  confer  no  political  emancipa- 
tion on  them,  but  it  took  away  in  many 
places  the  peculiar  franchises  which  made  the 


t 


16 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


workingmen  voters.  There  were  communi- 
ties— such,  for  example,  as  that  of  Preston, 
in  Lancashire — where  the  system  of  fran- 
chise existing  created  something  like  univer- 
sal suffrage.  All  this  was  smoothed  away,  if 
such  an  expression  may  be  used,  by  the  Re- 
form Bill.  In  truth  the  Reform  Bill  broke 
down  the  monopoly  which  the  aristocracy 
and  landed  classes  had  enjoyed,  and  admitted 
the  middle  classes  to  a share  of  the  law-mak- 
ing power.  The  representation  was  divided 
between  the  aristocracy  and  the  middle  class, 
instead  of  being,  as  before,  the  exclusive  pos- 
session of  the  former. 

The  working  class,  in  the  opinion  of  many 
of  their  ablest  and  most  influential  represent- 
atives, were  not  merely  left  out  but  shoul- 
dered out.  This  was  all  the  more  exasperat- 
ing because  the  excitement  and  agitation 
by  the  strength  of  which  the  Reform  Bill 
was  carried  in  the  teeth  of  so  much  resistance 
were  kept  up  by  the  workingmen.  There 
was  besides,  at  the  time  of  the  Reform  Bill,  a 
very  high  degree  of  what  may  be  called  the 
temperature  of  the  French  Revolution  still 
heating  the  senses  and  influencing  the  judg- 
ment even  of  the  aristocratic  leaders  of  the 
movement.  What  Richter  calls  the  “ seed- 
grains”  of  the  revolutionary  doctrines  had 
been  blown  abroad  so  widely  that  they  rest- 
ed in  some  of  the  highest  as  well  as  in  most 
of  the  lowliest  places.  Some  of  the  Reform 
leaders,  Lord  Durham  for  instance,  were 
prepared  to  go  much  farther  in  the  way  of 
Radicalism  than  at  a later  period  Mr.  Cobden 
or  Mr.  Bright  would  have  gone.  There  was 
more  than  once  a sort  of  appeal  to  the  work- 
ingmen of  the  country  which,  however 
differently  it  may  have  been  meant,  certainly 
sounded  in  their  ears  as  if  it  were  an  intima- 
tion that  in  the  event  of  the  bill  being  resist- 
ed too  long  it  might  be  necessary  to  try  what 
the  strength  of  a popular  uprising  could  do. 
Many  years  after,  in  the  defence  of  the  Irish 
state  prisoners  at  Clonmel,  the  counsel  who 
pleaded  their  cause  insisted  that  they  had 
warrant  for  their  conduct  in  certain  proceed- 
ings which  were  in  preparation  during  the 
Reform  agitation.  He  talked  with  undis- 
guised significance  of  the  teacher  being  in 
the  Ministry  and  the  pupils  in  the  dock  ; and 
quoted  Captain  Macheath  to  the  effect  that  if 
laws  were  made  equally  for  every  degree, 
there  might  even  then  be  rare  company  on 
Tyburn  tree.  It  is  not  necessary  to  attach 
too  much  importance  to  assertions  of  this 
kind,  or  to  accept  them  as  sober  contribu- 
tions to  history.  But  they  are  very  instruc- 
tive as  a means  of  enabling  us  to  understand 
the  feeling  of  soreness  which  remained  in  the 
minds  of  large  masses  of  the  population  when 
after  the  passing  of  the  Reform  Bill  thev 
found  themselves  left  out  in  the  cold. 
Rightly  or  wrongly  they  believed  that  their 
strength  had  been  kept  in  reserve  or  in  ter- 
rorem  to  secure  the  carrying  of  the  Reform 
Bill,  and  that  when  it  was  carried  they  were 
immediately  thrown  over  by  those  whom 
they  had  thus  helped  to  pass  it.  Therefore 
at  the  time  when  the  young  Sovereign  ascend- 
ed the  throne,  the  working  classes  in  all  the 
large  towns  were  in  a state  of  profound  dis- 
appointment and  discontent,  almost  indeed 
of  disaffection.  Chartism  was  beginning  to 
succeed  to  the  Reform  agitation.  The  lead- 
ers who  had  come  from  the  ranks  of  the  aris- 
tocracy had  been  discarded  or  had  with- 
drawn. In  some  cases  they  had  withdrawn 
in  perfect  good  faith,  believing  sincerely  that 
they  had  done  the  work  which  they  under- 
took to  do,  and  that  that  was  all  the  country 
required.  Men  drawn  more  immediately 
from  the  working  class  itself,  or  who  had  in 
some  way  been  dropped  down  by  a class 
higher  in  the  social  scale,  took  up  the  popu- 
lar leadership  now. 

Chartism  may  be  said  to  have  sprung  de- 
finitively into  existence  in  consequence  of 
the  formal  declarations  of  the  leaders  of  the 
Liberal  party  in  Parliament  that  they  did  not 
intend  to  push  Reform  any  farther.  At  the 


opening  of  the  first  Parliament  of  Queen 
Victoria’s  reign  the  question  was  brought  to 
a test.  A Radical  member  of  the  House  of 
Commons  moved  as  an  amendment  to  the  ad- 
dress a resolution  declaring  in  favor  of  the 
ballot  and  of  shorter  duration  of  Parliaments. 
Only  twenty  members  voted  for  it ; and  Lord 
John  Russell  declared  distinctly  against  all 
such  attempts  to  reopen  the  Reform  ques- 
tion. It  was  impossible  that  this  declaration 
should  not  be  received  with  disappointment 
and  anger  by  great  masses  of  the  people. 
They  had  been  in  the  full  assurance  that  the 
Reform  Bill  itself  was  only  the  means  by 
which  greater  changes  were  to  be  brought 
about.  Lord  John  Russell  said  in  the  House 
of  Commons  that  to  push  Reform  any  farther 
then  would  be  a breach  of  faith  towards 
those  who  helped  him  to  carry  it.  A great 
many  outside  Parliament  not  unnaturally  re- 
garded the  refusal  to  go  any  farther  as  a 
breach  of  faith  towards  them  on  the  part  of 
the  Liberal  leaders.  Lord  John  Russell  was 
right  from  his  point  of  view.  It  would  have 
been  impossible  to  carry  the  Reform  move- 
ment any  farther  just  then.  In  a country 
like  ours,  where  interests  are  so  nicely  bal- 
anced, it  must  always  happen  that  a forward 
movement  in  politics  is  followed  by  a certain 
reaction.  The  Parliamentary  leaders  in  Par- 
liament were  already  beginning  to  feel  the 
influence  of  this  law  of  our  political  growth. 
It  would  have  been  hopeless  to  attempt  to 
get  the  upper  and  middle  classes  at  such  a 
time  to  consent  to  any  further  changes  of 
considerable  importance.  But  the  feeling  of 
those  who  had  helped  so  materially  to  bring 
about  the  Reform  movement  was  at  least  in- 
telligible when  they  found  that  its  effects 
were  to  stop  just  short  of  the  measures  which 
alone  could  have  any  direct  influence  on  their 
political  position. 

A conference  was  held  almost  immediately 
between  a few  of  the  Liberal  members  of 
Parliament  who  professed  Radical  opinions 
and  some  of  the  leaders  of  the  workingmen. 
At  this  conference  the  programme,  or  what 
was  always  afterwards  known  as  “ the  Char- 
ter,” was  agreed  upon  and  drawn  up.  The 
name  of  “ Charter”  appears  to  have  been 
given  to  it  for  the  first  time  by  O’Connell. 
“ There’s  your  Charter,”  he  said  to  the  sec- 
retary of  the  Workingmen’s  Association ; 
‘‘agitate  for  it,  and  never  be  content  with 
anything  less.”  It  is  a great  thing  accom- 
plished in  political  agitation  to  have  found  a 
telling  name.  A name  is  almost  as  impor- 
tant for  a new  agitation  as  for  a new  novel. 
The  title  of  “ The  People’s  Charter”  would 
of  itself  have  launched  the  movement. 

Quietly  studied  now,  the  People’s  Charter 
does  not  seem  a very  formidable  document. 
There  is  little  smell  of  gunpowder  about  it. 
Its  “ points,”  as  they  were  called,  were  six. 
Manhood  Suffrage  came  first.  It  was  then 
called  universal  suffrage,  but  it  only  meant 
manhood  suffrage,  for  the  promoters  of  the 
movement  had  not  the  slightest  idea  of  in- 
sisting on  the  franchise  for  women.  The 
second  was  Annual  Parliaments.  Vote  by 
Ballot  was  the  third.  Abolition  of  the  Prop- 
erty Qualification  (then  and  for  many  years 
after  required  for  the  election  of  a member 
to  Parliament)  was  the  fourth.  The  Pay- 
ment of  Members  was  the  fifth  ; and  the  Di- 
vision of  the  Country  into  Equal  Electoral 
Districts,  the  sixth  of  the  famous  points. 
Of  these  proposals,  some,  it  will  be  seen,  were 
perfectly  reasonable.  Not  one  was  so  abso- 
lutely unreasonable  as  to  be  outside  the  range 
of  fair  and  quiet  discussion  among  practical 
politicians.  Three  of  the  points — half,  that 
is  to  say,  of  the  whole  number — have  already 
been  made  part  of  our  constitutional  system. 
The  existing  franchise  may  be  virtually  re- 
garded as  manhood  suffrage.  We  have  for 
years  been  voting  by  means  of  a written  pa- 
per dropped  in  a ballot-box.  The  property 
qualification  for  members  of  Parliament 
could  hardly  be  said  to  have  been  abolished. 
Such  a word  seems  far  too  grand  and  digni- 


fied to  describe  the  fate  that  befell  it.  We 
should  rather  say  that  it  was  extinguished  by 
its  own  absurdity  and  viciousness.  It  never 
kept  out  of  Parliament  any  person  legally 
disqualified,  and  it  was  the  occasion  of  inces- 
sant tricks  and  devices  which  would  surely 
have  been  counted  disreputable  and  disgrace- 
ful (to  those  who  engaged  in  them,  but  that 
the  injustice  and  folly  of  the  system  generat- 
ed a sort  of  false  public  conscience  where  it 
was  concerned,  and  made  people  think  it  as 
lawful  to  cheat  it,  as  at  one  time  the  most 
respectable  persons  in  private  life  thought  it 
allowable  to  cheat  the  revenue  and  wear  smug- 
gled lace  or  drink  smuggled  brandy.  The 
proposal  to  divide  the  country  into  equal 
electoral  districts  is  one  which  can  hardly 
yet  be  regarded  as  having  come  to  any  test. 
But  it  is  almost  certain  that  sooner  or  later 
some  alteration  of  our  present  system  in  that 
direction  will  be  adopted.  Of  the  two  other 
points  of  the  Charter,  the  payment  of  mem- 
bers may  be  regarded  as  decidedly  objection- 
able ; and  that  for  yearly  parliaments  as  em- 
bodying a proposition  which  would  make 
public  life  an  almost  insufferable  nuisance  to 
those  actively  concerned  in  it.  But  neither 
of  these  two  proposals  would  be  looked  upon 
in  our  time  as  outside  the  range  of  legitimate 
political  discussion.  Indeed,  the  difficulty 
any  one  engaged  in  their  advocacy  would  find 
just  now  would  be  in  getting  any  considera- 
ble body  of  listeners  to  take  the  slightest  in- 
terest in  the  argument  either  for  or  against 
them. 

The  Chartists  might  be  roughly  divided 
into  three  classes — the  political  Chartists,  the 
social  Chartists,  and  the  Chartists  of  vague 
discontent  who  joined  the  movement  because 
they  were  wretched  and  felt  angry.  The 
first  were  the  regular  political  agitators  who 
wanted  a wider  popular  representation  ; the 
second  were  chiefly,  led  to  the  movement  by 
their  hatred  of  the  “ bread-tax.”  These  two 
classes  were  perfectly  clear  as  to  what  they 
wanted  : some  of  their  demands  were  just 
and  reasonable  ; none  of  them  were  without 
the  sphere  of  rational  and  peaceful  contro- 
versy. The  disciples  of  mere  discontent  nat- 
urally swerved  alternately  to  the  side  of  those 
leaders  or  sections  who  talked  loudest  and 
fiercest  against  the  law  makers  and  the  con- 
stituted authorities.  Chartism  soon  split  it- 
self into  two  general  divisions  — the  moral 
force  and  the  physical  force  Chartism.  Noth- 
ing can  be  more  unjust  than  to  represent  the 
leaders  and  promoters  of  the  movement  as 
mere  factious  and  self-seeking  demagogues. 
Some  of  them  were  men  of  great  ability  and 
eloquence ; some  were  impassioned  young 
poets  drawn  from  the  class  whom  Kingsley 
has  described  in  his  “Alton  Locke;”  some 
were  men  of  education  ; many  were  earnest 
and  devoted  fanatics  ; and,  so  far  as  we  can 
judge,  all,  or  nearly  all,  were  sincere.  Even 
the  man  who  did  the  movement  most  harm, 
and  who  made  himself  most  odious  to  all 
reasonable  outsiders,  the  once  famous,  now 
forgotten,  Feargus  O’Connor,  appears  to 
have  been  sincere  and  to  have  personally  lost 
more  than  he  gained  by  his  Chartism.  Four 
or  five  years  after  the  collapse  of  what  may 
be  called  the  active  Chartist  agitation,  a huge 
white-headed  vacuous-eyed  man  was  to  be 
seen  of  mornings  wandering  through  the 
arcades  of  Co  vent  Garden  Market,  looking  at 
the  fruits  and  flowers,  occasionally  taking  up 
a flower,  smelling  at  it,  and  putting  it  down 
with  a smile  of  infantile  satisfaction  ; a man 
who  might  have  reminded  observers  of  Mr. 
Dick  in  Dickens’s  “David  Copperfield 
and  this  was  the  once  renowned,  once  dreaded 
and  detested  Feargus  O’Connor.  For  some 
time  before  his  death  his  reason  had  wholly 
deserted  him.  Men  did  not  know  at  first  in 
the  House  of  Commons  the  meaning  of  the 
odd  pranks  whicli  Feargus  was  beginning  to 
play  there  to  the  bewilderment  of  the  great 
assembly.  At  last  it  was  seen  that  the  fallen 
leader  of  Chartism  was  a hopeless  madman. 
It  is  hardly  to  be  doubted  that  insanity  had 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


17 


long  been  growing  on  him,  and  that  some  at 
least  of  his  political  follies  and  extravagances 
were  the  result  of  an  increasing  disorder  of 
the  brain.  In  his  day  he  had  been  the  very 
model  for  a certain  class  of  demagogue.  He 
was  of  commanding  presence,  great  stature, 
and  almost  gigantic  strength.  He  had  edu- 
cation ; he  had  mixed  in  good  society  ; he 
belonged  to  an  old  family,  and  indeed  boasted 
his  descent  from  a line  of  Irish  kings,  not 
without  some  ground  for  the  claim.  He  had 
been  a man  of  some  fashion  at  one  time,  and 
had  led  a life  of  wild  dissipation  in  his  early 
years.  He  had  a kind  of  eloquence  which 
told  with  immense  power  on  a mass  of  half- 
ignorant  hearers  ; and  indeed  men  who  had 
no  manner  of  liking  for  him  or  sympathy 
with  his  doctrines  have  declared  that  he  was 
the  most  effective  mob  orator  they  had  ever 
heard.  He  was  ready,  if  needs  were,  to 
fight  his  way  single-handed  through  a whole 
mass  of  Tory  opponents  at  a contested  elec- 
tion. Thomas  Cooper,  the  venerable  poet  of 
Chartism,  has  given  an  amusing  description, 
in  his  autobiography,  of  Feargus  O’Connor, 
who  was  then  his  hero,  leaping  from  a wag- 
on at  a Nottingham  election  into  the  midst 
of  a crowd  of  Tory  butchers,  and  with  only 
two  stout  Chartist  followers  fighting  his  way 
through  all  opposition,  “ flooring  the  butch- 
ers like  ninepins.”  “Once,”  says  Mr. 
Cooper,  “ the  Tory  lambs  fought  off  all  who 
surrounded  him  and  got  him  down,  and  my 
heart  quaked — for  I thought  they  would  kill 
him.  But  in  a very  few  moments  his  red 
head  emerged  again  from  the  rough  human 
billows,  and  he  was  fighting  his  way  as  be- 
fore.” 

There  were  many  men  in  the  movement  of 
a nobler  moral  nature  than  poor  huge  wild 
Feargus  O’Connor.  There  were  men  like 
Thomas  Cooper  himself,  devoted,  impas- 
sioned, full  of  poetic  aspiration  and  no  scant 
measure  of  poetic  inspiration  as  well.  Henry 
Vincent  was  a man  of  unimpeachable  charac- 
ter and  of  some  ability,  an  effective  popular 
speaker,  who  has  since  maintained  in  a very 
unpretending  way  a considerable  reputa- 
tion. Ernest  Jones  was  as  sincere  and  self- 
sacrificing  a man  as  ever  joined  a sinking 
cause.  He  had  proved  his  sincerity  more  in 
deed  than  word.  His  talents  only  fell  short 
of  that  height  which  might  claim  to  be  re- 
garded as  genius.  His  education  was  that  of 
a scholar  and  a gentleman.  Many  men  of 
education  and  ability  were  drawn  into  sym- 
pathy if  not  into  actual  co-operation  with  the 
Chartists  by  a conviction  that  some  of  their 
claims  were  well-founded,  and  that  the  griev- 
ances of  the  working  classes,  which  were 
terrible  to  contemplate,  were  such  as  a Par- 
liament better  representing  all  classes  would 
be  able  to  remedy.  Some  of  these  men  have 
since  made  for  themselves  an  honorable  name 
in  Parliament  and  out  of  it ; some  of  them 
have  risen  to  high  political  position.  It  is 
necessary  to  read  such  a book  as  Thomas 
Cooper’s  autobiography  to  understand  how 
genuine  was  the  poetic  and  political  enthusi- 
asm which  was  at  the  heart  of  the  Chartist 
movement,  and  how  bitter  was  the  suffering 
which  drove  into  its  ranks  so  many  thou- 
sands of  stout  workingmen  who,  in  a coun- 
try like  England,  might  well  have  expected 
to  be  able  to  live  by  the  hard  work  they  were 
only  too  willing  to  do.  One  must  read  the 
Anti- Corn-Law  rhymes  of  Ebenezer  Elliott 
to  understand  how  the  “ bread- tax”  became 
identified  in  the  minds  of  the  very  best  of  the 
working  class,  and  identified  justly,  with  the 
system  of  political  and  economical  legislation 
which  was  undoubtedly  kept  up,  although 
not  of  conscious  purpose,  for  the  benefit  of  a 
class.  In  the  minds  of  too  many,  the  British 
Constitution  meant  hard  work  and  half- 
starvation. 

A whole  literature  of  Chartist  newspapers 
sprang  up  to  advocate  the  cause.  The  North 
ern  Star,  owned  and  conducted  by  Feargus 
O’Connor,  was  the  most  popular  and  influ- 
ential of  them  ; but  every  great  town  had  its 


Chartist  press.  Meetings  were  held  at  which 
sometimes  very  violent  language  was  em- 
ployed. It  began  to  be  the  practice  to  hold 
torchlight  meetings  at  night,  and  many  men 
went  armed  to  these,  and  open  clamor  was 
made  by  the  wilder  of  the  Chartists  for  an 
appeal  to  arms.  A formidable  riot  took 
place  in  Birmingham,  where  the  authorities 
endeavored  to  put  down  a Chartist  meeting. 
Ebenezer  Elliott  and  other  sensible  sympa- 
thizers endeavored  to  open  the  eyes  of  the 
more  extreme  Chartists  to  the  folly  of  all 
schemes  for  measures  of  violence  ; but  for 
the  time  the  more  violent  a speaker  was,  the 
better  chance  he  had  of  becoming  popular. 
Efforts  were  made  at  times  to  bring  about  a 
compromise  with  the  middle-class  Liberals 
and  the  Anti-Corn-Law  leaders  ; but  all  such 
attempts  proved  failures.  The  Chartists 
would  not  give  up  their  Charter  ; many  of 
them  would  not  renounce  the  hope  of  seeing 
it  carried  by  force.  The  Government  began 
to  prosecute  some  of  the  orators  and  leaders 
of  the  Charter  movement ; and  some  of  these 
were  convicted,  imprisoned,  and  treated  with 
great  severity.  Henry  Vincent’s  imprison- 
ment at  Newport,  in  Wales,  was  the  occasion 
of  an  attempt  at  rescue  which  bore  a very 
close  resemblance  indeed  to  a scheme  of  or- 
ganized and  armed  rebellion. 

Newport  had  around  it  a large  mining 
population,  and  the  miners  were  nearly  all 
physical  force  Chartists.  It  was  arranged 
among  them  to  march  in  three  divisions  to  a 
certain  rendezvous,  and  when  they  had 
formed  a junction  there,  which  was  to  be 
two  hours  after  midnight,  to  march  into  New- 
port, attack  the  jail,  and  effect  the  release 
of  Vincent  and  other  prisoners.  The  at- 
tempt was  to  be  under  the  chief  command  of 
Mr.  Frost,  a trader  of  Newport,  who  had 
been  a magistrate,  but  was  deprived  of  the 
commission  of  the  peace  for  violent  political 
speeches — a man  of  respectable  character  and 
conduct  up  to  that  time.  This  was  on  No- 
vember 4,  1839.  There  was  some  misunder- 
standing and  delay,  as  almost  invariably  hap- 
pens in  such  enterprises,  and  the  divisions  of 
the  little  army  did  not  effect  their  junction 
in  time.  When  they  entered  Newport,  they 
found  the  authorities  fully  prepared  to  meet 
them.  Frost  entered  the  town  at  the  head  of 
one  division  only,  another  following  him  at 
some  interval.  The  third  was  nowhere  as 
far  as  the  object  of  the  enterprise  was  con- 
cerned. A conflict  took  place  between  the 
rioters  and  the  soldiery  and  police,  and  the 
rioters  were  dispersed  with  a loss  of  some  ten 
killed  and  fifty  wounded.  In  their  flight 
they  encountered  some  of  the  other  divisions 
coming  up  to  the  enterprise  all  too  late. 
Nothing  was  more  remarkable  than  the  cour- 
age shown  by  the  mayor  of  Newport,  the 
magistrates,  and  the  little  body  of  soldiers. 
The  mayor,  Mr.  Phillips,  received  two  gun- 
shot wounds.  Frost  was  arrested  next  day 
along  with  some  of  his  colleagues.  They 
were  tried  on  June  6,  1840.  The  charge 
against  them  was  one  of  high  treason.  There 
did  really  appear  ground  enough  to  suppose 
that  the  expedition  led  by  Frost  was  not 
merely  to  rescue  Vincent,  but  to  set  going  the 
great  rebellious  movement  of  which  the  phys- 
ical force  Chartists  had  long  been  talking. 
The  Chartists  appear  at  first  to  have  num- 
bered some  ten  thousand — twenty  thousand, 
indeed,  according  to  other  accounts  — and 
they  were  armed  with  guns,  pikes,  swords, 
pickaxes,  and  bludgeons.  If  the  delay  and 
misunderstanding  had  not  taken  place,  and 
they  had  arrived  at  their  rendezvous  at  the 
appointed  time,  the  attempt  might  have  led 
to  very  calamitous  results.  The  jury  found 
Frost  and  two  of  .his  companions,  Williams 
and  Jones,  guilty  of  high  treason,  and  they 
were  sentenced  to  death  ; the  sentence,  how- 
ever, was  commuted  to  one  of  transportation 
for  life.  Even  this  was  afterwards  relaxed, 
and  when  some  years  had  passed  away,  and 
Chartism  had  ceased  to  be  a disturbing  influ- 
ence, Frost  was  allowed  to  return  to  Eng- 
2 


land,  where  he  found  that  a Dew  generation 
had  grown  up,  and  that  he  was  all  but  for- 
gotten. In  the  meantime  the  Corn-Law  agi- 
tation had  been  successful  ; the  year  of  rev- 
olutions had  passed  harmlessly  over  ; Fear- 
gus O’Connor’s  day  was  done. 

But  the  trial  and  conviction  of  Frost,  Wil- 
liams, and  Jones  did  not  put  a stop  to  the 
Chartist  agitation.  On  the  contrary,  that 
agitation  seemed  rather  to  wax  and  strength- 
en and  grow  broader  because  of  the  attempt 
at  Newport,  and  its  consequences.  Thomas 
Cooper,  for  example,  had  never  attended  a 
Chartist  meeting,  nor  known  anything  of 
Chartism  beyond  what  he  read  in  the  newspa- 
pers,until  after  the  conviction  of  Frost  and  his 
companions.  There  was  no  lack  of  what  were 
called  energetic  measures  on  the  part  of  the 
Government.  The  leading  Chartists  all  over 
the  country  were  prosecuted  and  tried, literally 
by  hundreds.  In  most  cases  they  were  con- 
victed and  sentenced  to  terms  of  imprison- 
ment. The  imprisonment  served  rather  to 
make  the  Chartist  leaders  popular,  and  to  ad- 
vertise the  movement,  than  to  accomplish 
any  purpose  the  Government  had  at  heart. 
They  helped  to  make  the  Government  very 
unpopular.  The  working  classes  grew 
more  and  more  bitter  against  the  Whigs, 
who  they  said  had  professed  Liberalism  only 
to  gain  their  own  ends,  and  were  really  at 
heart  less  Liberal  than  the  Tories.  Now  and 
then  an  imprisoned  representative  of  the 
Chartist  movement  got  to  the  end  of  his 
period  of  sentence,  and  came  out  of  durance. 
He  was  a hero  all  over  again,  and  his  return 
to  public  life  was  the  signal  for  fresh  demon- 
strations of  Chartism.  At  the  general  elec- 
tion of  1841,  the  vast  majority  of  the  Chart- 
ists, acting  on  the  advice  of  some  of  their 
more  extreme  leaders,  threw  all  their  support 
into  the  cause  of  the  Tories,  and  so  helped 
the  downfall  of  the  Melbourne  Adminis- 
tration. 

Wide  and  almost  universal  discontent 
among  the  working  classes  in  town  and  coun- 
try still  helped  to  swell  the  Chartist  ranks. 
The  weavers  and  stockingers  in  some  of  the 
manufacturing  towns  were  miserably  poor. 
Wages  were  low  everywhere.  In  the  agri- 
cultural districts  the  complaints  against  the 
operation  of  the  new  Poor  Law  were  vehe- 
ment and  passionate  ; and  although  they 
were  unjust  in  principle  and  sustained  by 
monstrous  exaggerations  of  statement,  they 
were  not  the  less  potent  as  recruiting  agents 
for  Chartism.  There  was  a profound  dis- 
trust of  the  middle  class  and  their  leaders. 
The  Anti-Corn-Law  agitation  which  was  then 
springing  up,  and  which,  one  might  have 
thought,  must  find  its  most  strenuous  sup- 
port among  the  poor  artisans  of  the  towns, 
was  regarded  with  deep  disgust  by  some  of 
the  Chartists,  and  with  downright  hostility  by 
others.  A very  temperate  orator  of  the 
Chartists  put  the  feeling  of  himself  and  his 
fellows  in  clear  terms.  “ We  do  not  object 
to  the  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws,  ’ ’ he  said  ; 
“ on  the  contrary.  When  we  get  the  Charter 
we  will  repeal  the  Corn  Laws  and  all  the  bad 
laws.  But  if  you  give  up  your  agitation  for 
the  Charter  to  help  the  Free  Traders,  they 
will  never  help  you  to  get  the  Charter.  Don’t 
be  deceived  by  the  middle  classes  again  ! 
You  helped  them  to  get  the  Reform  Bill,  and 
where  are  the  fine  promises  they  made  you  ? 
Don’t  listen  to  their  humbug  any  more. 
Stick  to  your  Charter.  Without  your  votes 
you  are  veritable  slaves.”  The  Chartists  be- 
lieved themselves  abandoned  by  their  natural 
leaders.  All  manner  of  socialist  doctrines 
began  to  creep  in  among  them.  Wild  and 
infidel  opinions  were  proclaimed  by  many. 
Thomas  Cooper  tells  one  little  anecdote  which 
he  says  fairly  illustrates  the  feeling  of  many 
of  the  fiercer  spirits  among  the  artisan  Chart- 
ists in  some  of  the  towns.  He  and  his 
friends  were  holding  a meeting  one  day  in 
Leicester.  A poor  religious  stockinger  said  : 

‘ ‘ Let  us  be  patient  a little  longer  ; surely  God 
Almighty  will  help  us  soon.”  “Talk  to  us 


18 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


no  more  about  thy  Godclle  Mighty,”  was  the 
fierce  cry  that  came  in  reply  from  one  of  the 
audience  ; “ there  isn’t  one  ! If  there  was 
one,  he  wouldn’t  let  us  suffer  as  we  do  !” 
About  the  same  time  a poor  stockinger 
rushed  into  Cooper’s  house,  and  throwing 
himself  wildly  on  a chair,  exclaimed,  “ I 
wish  they  would  hang  me.  I have  lived  on 
cold  potatoes  that  were  given  me  these  two 
days,  and  this  morning  I’ve  eaten  a raw  po- 
tato for  sheer  hunger.  Give  me  a bit  of 
bread  and  a cup  of  coffee  or  I shall  drop.” 
Thomas  Cooper’s  remark  about  this  time  is 
very  intelligible  and  simple.  It  tells  a long 
clear  story  about  Chartism.  “ How  fierce,” 
he  says,  “ my  discourses  became  now  in  the 
Market  Place  on  Sunday  evenings  ! My 
heart  often  burned  with  indignation  I knew 
not  how  to  express.  I began  from  sheer 
sympathy  to  feel  a tendency  to  glide  into  the 
depraved  thinking  of  some  of  the  stronger 
but  coarser  spirits  among  the  men.” 

So  the  agitation  went  on.  W e need  not  fol- 
low it  through  all  its  incidents.  It  took  in 
some  places  the  form  of  industrial  strikes  ; 
in  others,  of  socialistic  assemblages.  Its 
fanaticism  had  in  many  instances  a strong 
flavor  of  nobleness  and  virtue.  Some  men 
under  the  influence  of  thoughtful  leaders 
pledged  themselves  to  total  abstinence  from 
intoxicating  drinks,  in  the  full  belief  that  the 
agitation  would  never  succeed  until  the  work- 
ing classes  had  proved  themselves  by  their 
self-control  to  be  worthy  of  the  gift  of  free- 
dom. In  other  instances,  as  has  been  already 
remarked,  the  disappointment  and  despair  of 
the  people  took  the  form  of  infidelity.  There 
were  many  riots  and  disturbances  ; none,  in- 
deed, of  soseeminglyrebelliousanatureasthat 
of  Frost  and  his  companions,  but  many  seri- 
ous enough  to  spread  great  alarm  and  to  fur- 
nish fresh  occasion  for  Government  prosecu- 
tions and  imprisonments.  Some  of  the  pris- 
oners seem  to  have  been  really  treated  with 
a positively  wanton  harshness  and  even 
cruelty.  Thomas  Cooper’s  account  of  his 
own  sufferings  in  prison  is  painful  to  read. 
It  is  not  easy  to  understand  what  good  pur- 
pose any  Government  could  have  supposed 
the  prison  authorities  were  serving  by  the 
unnecessary  degradation  and  privation  of 
men  who,  whatever  their  errors,  were  con- 
spicuously and  transparently  sincere  and 
honest. 

It  is  clear  that  at  that  time  the  Chartists, 
who  represented  the  bulk  of  the  artisan  class 
in  most  of  the  large  towns,  did  in  their  very 
hearts  believe  that  England  was  ruled  for  the 
benefit  of  aristocrats  and  millionnaires  who 
were  absolutely  indifferent  to  the  sufferings 
of  the  poor.  It  is  equally  clear  that  most  of 
what  are  called  the  ruling  class  did  really 
believe  the  English  workingmen  who  joined 
the  Chartist  movement  to  be  a race  of  fierce, 
unmanageable,  and  selfish  communists  who, 
if  they  were  allowed  their  own  way  for  a 
moment,  would  prove  themselves  determined 
to  overthrow  throne,  altar,  and  all  established 
securities  of  society.  An  ignorant  panic 
prevailed  on  both  sides.  England  was  in- 
deed divided  then,  as  Mr.  Disraeli’s  novel 
described  it,  into  two  nations,  the  rich  and 
the  poor,  in  towns  at  least ; and  each  hated 
and  feared  the  other  with  all  that  unthinking 
hate  and  fear  which  hostile  nations  are  capa- 
ble of  showing  even  amid  all  the  influences 
of  civilization. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

QUESTION  DE  JUPONS. 

Meanwhile  things  were  looking  ill  with 
the  Melbourne  Ministry.  Sir  Robert  Peel 
was  addressing  great  meetings  of  his  fol- 
lowers, and  declaring  with  much  show  of 
justice  that  he  had  created  anew  the  Conser- 
vative party.  The  position  of  the  Whigs 
would  in  any  case  have  been  difficult.  Their 
mandate,  to  use  the  French  phrase,  seemed 
to  be  exhausted.  They  had  no  new  thing  to 
propose.  They  came  into  power  as  reform- 
ers, and  now  they  had  nothing  to  offer  in  the 


way  of  reform.  It  may  be  taken  as  a cer- 
tainty that  in  English  politics  reaction  must 
always  follow  advance.  The  Whigs  must 
just  then  have  come  in  for  the  effects  of  re- 
action. But  they  had  more  than  that  to  con- 
tend with.  In  our  own  time,  Mr.  Gladstone 
had  no  sooner  passed  his  great  measures  of 
reform  than  he  began  to  experience  the 
effects  of  reaction.  But  there  was  a great 
difference  between  his  situation  and  that  of 
the  Whigs  under  Melbourne.  He  had  not 
failed  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  his  followers. 
He  had  no  extreme  wing  of  his  party  clam- 
oring against  him  on  the  ground  that  he  had 
made  use  of  their  strength  to  help  him  in  car- 
rying out  as  much  of  his  programme  as 
suited  his  own  coterie,  and  that  he  had  then 
deserted  them.  This  was  the  condition  of 
the  Whigs.  The  more  advanced  Liberals 
and  the  whole  body  of  the  Chartists,  and  the 
working  classes  generally,  detested  and  de- 
nounced them.  Many  of  the  Liberals  had 
had  some  hope  while  Lord  Durham  still 
seemed  likely  to  be  a political  power,  but 
with  the  fading  of  his  influence  they  lost  all 
interest  in  the  Whig  Ministry.  On  the  other 
hand  the  support  of  O’Connell  was  a serious 
disadvantage  to  Melbourne  and  his  party  in 
England. 

But  the  Whig  ministers  were  always  ad- 
ding by  some  mistake  or  other  to  the  difficul- 
ties of  their  position.  The  Jamaica  Bill  put 
them  in  great  perplexity.  This  was  a meas- 
ure brought  in  on  April  9,  1839,  to  make 
temporary  provision  for  the  government  of 
the  island  of  Jamaica,  by  setting  aside  the 
House  of  Assembly  for  five  years,  and  dur- 
ing that  time  empowering  the  governor  and 
council  with  three  salaried  commissioners  to 
manage  the  affairs  of  the  colony.  In  other 
words,  the  Melbourne  Ministry  proposed  to 
suspend  for  five  years  the  constitution  of 
Jamaica.  No  body  of  persons  can  he  more 
awkwardly  placed  than  a Whig  Ministry  pro- 
posing to  set  aside  a constitutional  govern- 
ment anywhere.  Such  a proposal  may  be  a 
necessary  measure  ; it  may  be  unavoidable  ; 
but  it  always  comes  with  a bad  grace  from 
Whigs  or  Liberals,  and  gives  their  enemies  a 
handle  against  them  which  they  cannot  fail 
to  use  to  some  purpose.  What,  indeed,  it 
may  be  plausibly  asked,  is  the  raison  d'etre 
of  a Liberal  Government  if  they  have  to  re- 
turn to  the  old  Tory  policy  of  suspended 
constitutions  and  absolute  law  ? When 
Rabagas,  become  minister,  tells  his  master 
that  the  only  way  to  silence  discontent  is  by 
the  literal  use  of  the  cannon,  the  Prince  of 
Monaco  remarks  very  naturally  that  if  that 
was  to  be  the  policy,  he  might  as  well  have 
kept  to  his  old  ministers  and  his  absolutism. 
So  it  is  with  an  English  Liberal  Ministry  ad- 
vising the  suspension  of  constitutions. 

In  the  case  of  the  Jamaica  Bill  there  was 
some  excuse  for  the  harsh  policy.  After  the 
abolition  of  slavery,  the  former  masters  in 
the  island  found  it  very  hard  to  reconcile 
themselves  to  the  new  condition  of  things. 
They  could  not  all  at  once  understand  that 
their  former  slaves  were  to  be  their  equals 
before  the  law.  As  we  have  seen  much  more 
lately  in  the  Southern  States  of  America 
after  the  civil  war  and  the  emancipation  of 
the  negroes,  there  was  still  a pertinacious 
attempt  made  by  the  planter  class  to  regain  in 
substance  the  power  they  had  had  to  renounce 
in  name.  This  was  not  to  be  justified  or  ex- 
cused ; but  as  human  nature  is  made  it  was 
not  unnatural.  On  the  other  hand,  some  of 
the  Jamaica  negroes  were  too  ignorant  to  un- 
derstand that  they  had  acquired  any  rights  ; 
others  were  a little  too  clamorous  in  their  as- 
sertion. Many  a planter  worked  his  men 
and  whipped  liia  women  just  as  before  the 
emancipation,  and  the  victims  did  not  under- 
stand that  they  had  any  right  to  complain. 
Many  negroes,  again,  were  ignorantly  and 
thoughtlessly  “ bumptious,”  to  use  a vulgar 
expression,  in  the  assertion  of  their  newly- 
found  equality.  The  Imperial  governors  and 
officials  were  generally  and  justly  eager  to 


protect  the  negroes ; and  the  result  was  a 
constant  quarrel  between  the  Jamaica  House 
of  Assembly  and  the  representatives  of  the 
home  Government.  The  Assembly  became 
more  insolent  and  offensive  every  day.  A 
bill,  very  necessary  in  itself,  was  passed  by 
the  Imperial  Parliament  for  the  better  regu- 
lation of  prisons  in  Jamaica,  and  the  House 
of  Assembly  refused  to  submit  to  any  such 
legislation.  Under  these  circumstances  the 
Melbourne  Ministry  proposed  the  suspension 
of  the  constitution  of  the  island.  The  meas- 
ure was  opposed  not  only  by  Peel  and  the 
Conservatives,  but  by  many  Radicals.  It 
was  argued  that  there  were  many  courses 
open  to  the  Ministry  short  of  the  high-handed 
proceeding  they  proposed  ; and  in  truth  there 
was  not  that  confidence  in  the  Melbourne 
Ministry  at  all  which  would  have  enabled 
them  to  obtain  from  Parliament  a majority 
sufficient  to  carry  through  such  a policy. 
The  Ministry  was  weak  and  discredited  ; any- 
body might  now  throw  a stone  at  it.  They 
only  had  a majority  of  five  in  favor  of  their 
measure.  This,  of  course,  was  a virtual  de- 
feat. The  Ministry  acknowledged  it  and  re- 
signed. Their  defeat  was  a humiliation  ; their 
resignation  an  inevitable  submission  ; but 
they  came  back  to  office  almost  immediately 
under  conditions  that  made  the  humiliation 
more  humbling,  and  rendered  their  subse- 
quent career  more  difficult  by  far  than  their 
past  struggle  for  existence  had  been. 

The  return  of  the  Whigs  to  office  — for 
they  cannot  be  said  to  have  returned  to  power 
— came  about  in  a very  odd  way.  Gulliver 
ought  to  have  had  an  opportunity  of  telling 
such  a story  to  the  king  of  the  Brobdingna- 
gians,  in  order  the  better  to  impress  him 
with  a clear  idea  of  the  logical  beauty  of  con- 
stitutional government.  It  was  an  entirely 
new  illustration  of  the  old  cherchez  la  femme 
principle,  the  femme  in  this  case,  however, 
being  altogether  a passive  and  innocent  cause 
of  trouble.  The  famous  controversy  known 
as  the  “ Bedchamber  Question”  made  a way 
back  for  the  Whigs  into  place.  When  Lord 
Melbourne  resigned,  the  Queen  sent  for  the 
Duke  of  Wellington,  who  advised  her  to  ap- 
ply to  Sir  Robert  Peel,  for  the  reason  that 
the  chief  difficulties  of  a Conservative  Gov- 
ernment would  be  in  the  House  of  Commons. 
The  Queen  sent  for  Peel,  and  when  he  came, 
told  him  with  a simple  and  girlish  frankness 
that  she  was  sorry  to  have  to  part  with  her  late 
ministers,  of  whose  conduct  she  entirely  ap- 
proved, but  that  she  bowed  to  constitutional 
usage.  This  must  have  been  rather  an  as- 
tonishing beginning  to  the  grave  and  formal 
Peel ; but  he  was  not  a man  to  think  any 
worse  of  the  candid  young  Sovereign  for  her 
outspoken  ways.  The  negotiations  went  on 
very  smoothly  as  to  the  colleagues  Peel 
meant  to  recommend  to  her  Majesty,  until  he 
happened  to  notice  the  composition  of  the 
royal  household  as  regarded  the  ladies  most 
closely  in  attendance  on  the  Queen.  For 
example,  he  found  that  the  wife  of  Lord 
Normanby  and  the  sister  of  Lord  Morpeth 
were  the  two  ladies  in  closest  attendance  on 
her  Majesty.  Now  it  has  to  be  borne  in 
mind — it  was  proclaimed  again  and  again 
during  the  negotiations — that  the  chief  diffi- 
culty of  the  Conservatives  would  necessarily 
be  in  Ireland,  where  their  policy  would  be 
altogether  opposed  to  that  of  the  Whigs. 
Lord  Normanby  had  been  Lord  Lieutenant 
of  Ireland  under  the  Whigs,  and  Lord  Mor- 
peth, whom  we  can  all  remember  as  the  ami- 
able and  accomplished  Lord  Carlisle  of  later 
time,  Irish  Secretary.  If  certainly  could  not 
be  satisfactory  for  Peel  to  try  to  work  a new 
Irish  policy  while  the  closest  household  com- 
panions of  the  Queen  were  the  wife  and  sis- 
ter of  the  displaced  statesmen  who  directly 
represented  the  policy  he  had  to  supersede. 
Had  this  point  of  view  been  made  clear  to 
the  Sovereign  at  first,  it  is  hardly  possible 
that  any  serious  difficulty  could  have  arisen. 
The  Queen  must  have  seen  the  obvious 
reasonableness  of  Peel’s  request ; nor  is  it  tQ 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


19 


be  supposed  that  the  two  ladies  in  question 
could  have  desired  to  hold  their  places  un- 
der such  circumstances.  But  unluckily 
some  misunderstanding  took  place  at  the  very- 
beginning  of  the  conversations  on  this  point. 
Peel  only  desired  to  press  for  the  retirement  of 
the  ladies  holding  the  higher  offices  ; he  did 
not  intend  to  ask  for  any  change  affecting  a 
place  lower  in  official  rank  than  that  of  lady 
of  the  bedchamber.  But  somehow  or  other 
he  conveyed  to  the  mind  of  the  Queen  a differ- 
ent idea.  She  thought  he  meant  to  insist, 
as  a matter  of  principle,  upon  the  removal  of 
all  her  familiar  attendants  and  household  as- 
sociates. Under  this  impression  she  consulted 
Lord  John  Russell,  who  advised  heron  what 
he  understood  to  be  the  state  of  the  facts. 
On  his  advice  the  Queen  stated  in  reply  that 
she  could  not  “ consent  to  a course  which 
she  conceives  to  be  contrary  to  usage  and  is 
repugnant  to  her  feelings.”  Sir  Robert  Peel 
held  firm  to  his  stipulation  ; and  the  chance  of 
his  then  forming  a Ministry  was  at  an  end. 
Lord  Melbourne  and  his  colleagues  had  to  he 
recalled ; and  at  a Cabinet  meeting  they 
adopted  a minute  declaring  it  reasonable 
“ that  the  great  offices  of  the  Court  and  situ- 
ations in  the  household  held  by  members  of 
Parliament  should  be  included  in  the  political 
arrangements  made  on  a change  in  the  Ad- 
ministration ; but  they  are  not  of  opinion 
that  a similar  principle  should  be  applied  or 
extended  to  the  offices  held  by  ladies  in  her 
Majesty’s  household.” 

The  matter  was  naturally  made  the  subject 
of  explanation  in  both  Houses  of  Parliament. 
Sir  Robert  Peel  was  undoubtedly  right  in 
his  view  of  the  question,  and  if  he  had  been 
clearly  understood  the  right  could  hardly 
have  been  disputed  ; but  he  defended  his  po- 
sition in  language  of  what  now  seems  rather 
ludicrous  exaggeration.  He  treated  this 
question  dejupons  as  if  it  were  of  the  last  im- 
portance not  alone  to  the  honor  of  the  Min- 
istry, but  even  to  the  safety  of  the  realm. 
“ I ask  you,”  he  said,  “to  go  back  to  other 
times : take  Pitt  or  Fox,  or  any  other  minis- 
ter of  this  proud  country,  and  answer  for 
yourselves  the  question,  is  it  fitting  that  one 
man  shall  be  the  minister,  responsible  for  the 
most  arduous  charge  that  can  fall  to  the  lot 
of  man,  and  that  the  wife  of  the  other — that 
other  his  most  formidable  political  enemy — 
shall,  with  his  express  consent,  hold  office  in 
immediate  attendance  on  the  Sovereign?” 
“ Oh,  no  1”  he  exclaimed,  in  an  outburst  of 
indignant  eloquence.  “ I felt  that  it  was  im- 
possible ; I could  not  consent  to  this.  Feel- 
ings more  powerful  than  reasoning  told  me 
that  it  was  not  for  my  own  honor  or  for  the 
public  interests  that  I should  consent  to  be 
minister  of  England.”  This  high-flown  lan- 
guage seems  oddly  out  of  place  on  the  lips 
of  a statesman  wrho  of  all  his  contemporaries 
was  the  least  apt  to  indulge  in  bursts  of  over- 
wrought sentiment.  Lord  Melbourne,  on  the 
other  hand,  defended  his  action  in  the  House 
of  Lords  in  language  of  equal  exaggeration. 
“ I resume  office,’  ’ he  said,  “ unequivocally 
and  solely  for  this  reason,  that  I will  not  de- 
sert my  Sovereign  in  a situation  of  difficulty 
and  distress,  especially  when  a demand  is 
made  upon  her  Majesty  with  which  I think 
she  ought  not  to  comply  ; a demand  incon- 
sistent with  her  personal  honor,  and  which, 
if  acquiesced  in,  would  render  her  reign  liable 
to  all  the  changes  and  variations  of  political 
parties,  and  make  her  domestic  life  one  con- 
stant scene  of  unhappiness  and  discomfort.” 

In  the  country  the  incident  created  great 
excitement.  Some  Liberals  bluntly  insisted 
that  it  was  not  right  in  such  a matter  to  con- 
sult the  feelings  of  the  Sovereign  at  all,  and 
that  the  advice  of  the  minister,  and  his  idea 
of  what  was  for  the  good  of  the  country, 
ought  alone  to  be  considered.  On  the  other 
hand,  O’Connell  burst  into  impassioned  lan- 
guage of  praise  and  delight,  as  he  dwelt  upon 
the  decision  of  the  Queen,  and  called  upon 
the  Powers  above  to  bless  “ the  young  crea- 
ture— that  creature  of  only  nineteen,  as  pure 


as  she  is  exalted,”  who  consulted  not  her 
head  but  “ the  overflowing  feelings  of  her 
young  heart.”  “Those  excellent  women 
who  had  been  so  long  attached  to  her,  who 
had  nursed  and  tended  to  her  wants  in  her 
childhood,  who  had  watched  over  her  in  her 
sickness,  whose  eyes  beamed  with  delight  as 
they  saw  her  increasing  daily  in  beauty  and 
in  loveliness — when  they  were  threatened  to 
be  forced  away  from  her — her  heart  told  her 
that  she  could  as  well  part  with  that  heart 
itself  as  with  those  whom  it  held  so  dear.” 
Feargus  O’Connor  went  a good  deal  further, 
however,  when  he  boldly  declared  that  he 
had  excellent  authority  for  the  statement  that 
if  the  Tories  had  got  the  young  Queen  into 
their  hands  by  the  agency  of  the  new  ladies 
of  the  bedchamber,  they  had  a plan  for  put- 
ting her  out  of  the  way  and  placing  “the 
bloody  Cumberland  ” on  the  throne  in  her 
stead.  In  O’Connell’s  case,  no  mystery  was 
made  of  the  fact  that  he  believed  the  ladies 
actually  surrounding  the  young  Queen  to  be 
friendly  to  what  he  considered  the  cause  of 
Ireland  ; and  that  he  was  satisfied  Peel  and 
the  Tories  were  against  it.  For  the  wild  talk 
represented  by  the  words  of  Feargus  O’Con- 
nor, it  is  only  necessary  to  say  that,  frenzied 
and  foolish  as  it  must  seem  now  to  us,  and 
as  it  must  even  then  have  seemed  to  all  ra- 
tional beings,  it  had  the  firm  acceptance  of 
large  masses  of  people  throughout  the  coun- 
try, who  persisted  in  seeing  in  Peel’s  plead- 
ings for  the  change  of  the  bedchamber  women 
the  positive  evidence  of  an  unscrupulous 
Tory  plot  to  get  possession  of  the  Queen’s 
person,  not  indeed  for  the  purpose  of  violent- 
ly altering  the  succession,  but  in  the  hope  of 
poisoning  her  mind  against  all  Liberal 
opinions. 

Lord  Brougham  was  not  likely  to  lose  so 
good  an  opportunity  of  attacking  Lord  Mel- 
bourne and  his  colleagues.  He  insisted  that 
Lord  Melbourne  had  sacrificed  Liberal  prin- 
ciples and  the  interests  of  the  country  to  the 
private  feelings  of  the  Sovereign.  “ I 
thought,”  he  declared  in  a burst  of  eloquent 
passion,  “ that  we  belonged  to  a country  in 
which  the  government  by  the  Crown  and  the 
wisdom  of  Parliament  was  everything,  and 
the  personal  feelings  of  the  Sovereign  were 
absolutely  not  to  be  named  at  the  same  time. 
...  I little  thought  to  have  lived  to  hear  it 
said  by  the  Whigs  of  1839,  “ Let  us  rally 
round  the  Queen  ; never  mind  the  House  of 
Commons ; never  mind  measures ; throw 
principles  to  the  dogs  ; leave  pledges  un- 
redeemed ; but  for  God’s  sake  rally  round  the 
throne.”  Little  did  I think  the  day  would 
come  when  I should  hear  such  language,  not 
from  the  unconstitutional,  place  - hunting, 
king-loving  Tories,  who  thought  the  public 
was  made  for  the  king,  not  the  king  for  the 
public,  but  from  the  Whigs  themselves  ! 
The  Jamaica  Bill,  said  to  be  a most  impor- 
tant measure,  had  been  brought  forward. 
The  Government  staked  their  existence  upon 
it.  They  were  not  able  to  carry  it ; they 
therefore  conceived  they  had  lost  the  confi- 
dence of  the  House  of  Commons.  They 
thought  it  a measure  of  paramount  necessity 
then.  Is  it  less  necessary  now  ? Oh,  but 
that  is  altered  ! The  Jamaica  question  is  to 
be  new-fashioned  ; principles  are  to  be  given 
up,  and  all  because  of  two  ladies  of  the  bed- 
chamber.” 

Nothing  could  be  more  undesirable  than 
the  position  in  which  Lord  Melbourne  and 
his  colleagues  had  allowed  the  Sovereign  to 
place  herself.  The  more  people  in  general 
came  to  think  over  the  matter,  the  more 
clearly  it  was  seen  that  Peel  was  in  the  right, 
although  he  had  not  made  himself  under- 
stood at  first,  and  had,  perhaps,  not  shown 
all  through  enough  of  consideration  for  the 
novelty  of  the  young  Sovereign’s  position,  or 
for  the  difficulty  of  finding  a conclusive  pre- 
cedent on  such  a question,  seeing  that  since 
the  principle  of  ministerial  responsibility  had 
come  to  be  recognized  among  us  in  its  gen- 
uine sense,  there  never  before  had  been  a 


woman  On  the  throne.  But  no  one  could 
deliberately  maintain  the  position  at  first 
taken  up  by  the  Whigs  ; and  in  point  of  fact 
they  were  soon  glad  to  drop  it  as  quickly  and 
quietly  as  possible.  The  whole  question,  it 
may  be  said  at  once,  was  afterwards  settled 
by  a sensible  compromise  which  the  Prince 
Consort  suggested.  It  was  agreed  that  on  a 
change  of  Ministry  the  Queen  would  listen 
to  any  representation  from  the  incoming 
Prime  Minister  as  to  the  composition  of  her 
household,  and  would  arrange  for  the  retire- 
ment, “ of  their  own  accord,”  of  any  ladies 
who  were  so  closely  related  to  the  leaders  of 
Opposition  as  to  render  their  presence  incon- 
venient. The  Whigs  came  back  to  office 
utterly  discredited.  They  had  to  tinker  up 
somehow  a new  Jamaica  Bill.  They  had 
declared  that  they  could  not  remain  in  office 
unless  they  were  allowed  to  deal  in  a certain 
way  with  Jamaica  ; and  now  that  they  were 
back  again  in  office,  they  could  not  avoid  try- 
ing to  do  something  with  the  Jamaica  busi- 
ness. They  therefore  introduced  a new  bill 
which  was  a mere  compromise  put  together 
in  the  hope  of  its  being  allowed  to  pass.  It 
was  allowed  to  pass,  after  a fashion  ; that  is, 
when  the  Opposition  in  the  House  of  Lords 
had  tinkered  it  and  amended  it  at  their  pleas- 
ure. The  bedchamber  question  in  fact  had 
thrown  Jamaica  out  of  perspective.  The  un- 
fortunate island  must  do  the  best  it  could 
now  ; in  this  country  statesmen  had  graver 
matter  to  think  of.  Sir  Robert  Peel  could 
not  govern  with  Lady  Normanby ; the 
Whigs  would  not  govern  without  her. 

It  does  not  seem  by  any  means  clear,  how- 
ever, that  Lord  Melbourne  and  his  colleagues 
deserved  the  savage  censure  of  Lord  Brough- 
am merely  for  having  returned  to  office  and 
given  up  their  original  position  with  regard 
to  the  Jamaica  Bill.  What  else  remained  to 
be  done?  If  they  had  refused  to  come 
back,  the  only  result  would  have  been  that 
Peel  must  have  become  Prime  Minister,  with, 
a distinct  minority  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. Peel  could  not  have  held  his  ground 
there,  except  by  the  favor  and  mercy  of  his 
opponents  ; and  those  were  not  merciful  days 
in  politics.  He  would  only  have  taken  office 
to  be  called  upon  at  once  to  resign  it  by  some 
adverse  vote  of  the  House  of  Commons. 
The  state  of  things  seems  in  this  respect  to 
be  not  unlike  that  which  existed  when  Mr. 
Gladstone  was  defeated  on  the  Irish  Uni- 
versity Bill  in  1873.  Mr.  Gladstone  re- 
signed ; or  rather  tendered  his  resignation ; 
and  by  his  advice  her  Majesty  invited  Mr. 
Disraeli  to  form  a Cabinet.  Mr.  Disraeli  did 
not  see  his  way  to  undertake  the  government 
of  the  country  with  the  existing  House  of 
Commons ; and  as  the  conditions  under 
which  he  was  willing  to  undertake  the  duty 
were  not  conveniently  attainable,  the  nego- 
tiation came  to  an  end.  The  Queen  sent 
again  for  Mr.  Gladstone,  who  consented  to 
resume  his  place  as  Prime  Minister.  If  Lord 
Melbourne  returned  to  office  with  the  knowl- 
edge that  he  could  not  carry  the  Jamaica  Bill 
which  he  had  declared  to  be  necessary,  Mr. 
Gladstone  resumed  his  place  at  the  head  of 
his  Ministry  without  the  remotest  hope  of  be- 
ing able  to  carry  his  Irish  University  meas- 
ure. No  one  ever  found  fault  with  Mr.  Glad- 
stone for  having,  under  the  circumstances, 
done  the  best  he  could,  and  consented  to 
meet  the  request  of  the  Sovereign  and  the 
convenience  of  the  public  service  by  again 
taking  on  himself  the  responsibility  of  gov- 
ernment, although  the  measure  on  which  he 
had  declared  he  would  stake  the  existence  of 
his  Ministry  had  been  rejected  by  the  House 
of  Commons. 

Still  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  Melbourne 
Government  were  prejudiced  in  the  public 
mind  by  these  events,  and  by  the  attacks  for 
which  they  gave  so  large  an  opportunity. 
The  feeling  in  some  parts  of  the  country  was 
still  sentimentally  with  the  Queen.  At  many 
a dinner  table  it  became  the  fashion  to  drink 
the  health  of  her  Majesty  with  a punning  ad- 


20 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


dition,  not  belonging  to  an  order  of  wit  any 
higher  than  that  which  in  other  days  toasted 
the  King  “ over  the  water  or  prayed  of 
heaven  to  “send  this  crumb  well  down.’’ 
The  Queen  was  toasted  as  the  sovereign  of 
spirit  who  “ would  not  let  her  belles  be 
peeled.”  But  the  Ministry  were  almost  uni- 
versally believed  to  have  placed  themselves  in 
a ridiculous  light,  and  to  have  crept  again 
into  office,  as  an  able  writer  puts  it,  ‘ ‘ behind 
the  petticoats  of  the  ladies  in  waiting.  ” The 
death  of  Lady  Flora  Hastings,  which  oc- 
curred almost  immediately,  tended  further  to 
arouse  a feeling  of  dislike  to  the  Whigs. 
This  melancholy  event  does  not  need  any 
lengthened  comment.  A young  lady  who 
belonged  to  the  household  of  the  Duchess  of 
Kent  fell  under  an  unfounded,  but  in  the  cir- 
cumstances not  wholly  unreasonable,  sus- 
picion. It  was  the  classic  story  of  Calisto, 
Diana’s  unhappy  nymph,  reversed.  Lady 
Flora  was  proved  to  be  innocent ; but  her 
death,  imminent  probably  in  any  case  from 
the  disease  which  had  fastened  on  her,  was 
doubtless  hastened  by  the  humiliation  to 
which  she  had  been  subjected.  It  does  not 
seem  that  any  one  was  to  blame  in  the  mat- 
ter. The  Ministry  certainly  do  not  appear  to 
have  done  anything  for  which  they  could 
fairly  be  reproached.  No  one  can  be  sur- 
prised that  those  who  surrounded  the  Queen 
and  the  Duchess  of  Kent  should  have  taken 
some  pains  to  inquire  into  the  truth  or  false- 
hood of  scandalous  rumors,  for  which  there 
might  have  appeared  to  be  some  obvious  jus- 
tification. But  the  whole  story  was  so  sad 
and  shocking  ; the  death  of  the  poor  young 
lady  followed  with  such  tragic  rapidity  upon 
the  establishment  of  her  innocence  ; the  nat- 
ural complaints  of  her  mother  were  so  loud 
and  impassioned,  that  the  ministers  who  had 
to  answer  the  mother’s  appeals  were  un- 
avoidably placed  in  an  invidious  and  a pain- 
ful position.  The  demands  of  the  Marchion- 
ess of  Hastings  for  redress  were  unreasonable. 
They  endeavored  to  make  out  the  existence 
of  a cruel  conspiracy  against  Lady  Flora, 
and  called  for  the  peremptory  dismissal  and 
disgrace  of  the  eminent  court  physician,  who 
had  merely  performed  a most  painful  duty, 
and  whose  report  had  been  the  especial 
means  of  establishing  the  injustice  of  the  sus- 
picions which  were  directed  against  her. 
But  it  was  a damaging  duty  for  a minister  to 
have  to  write  to  the  distracted  mother,  as 
Lord  Melbourne  found  it  necessary  to  do, 
telling  her  that  her  demand  was  “ so  unprec- 
edented and  objectionable,  that  even  the  re- 
spect due  to  your  ladyship’s  sex,  rank,  fam- 
ily, and  character  would  not  justify  me  in 
more,  if  indeed  it  authorizes  so  much,  than 
acknowledging  that  letter  for  the  sole  pur- 
pose of  acquainting  your  ladyship  that  I have 
received  it.”  The  “Palace  scandal,”  as  it 
was  called,  became  known  shortly  before  the 
dispute  about  the  ladies  of  the  bedchamber. 
The  death  of  Lady  Flora  Hastings  happened 
soon  after  it.  It  is  not  strictly  in  logical  pro- 
priety that  such  events,  or  their  rapid  succes- 
sion, should  tend  to  bring  into  disrepute  the 
Ministry  who  can  only  be  regarded  as  their 
historical  contemporaries.  But  the  world 
must  change  a great  deal  before  ministers  are 
no  longer  held  accountable  in  public  opinion 
for  anything  but  the  events  over  which  they 
can  be  shown  to  have  some  control. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  QUEEN’S  MARRIAGE. 

On  January  16,  1840,  the  Queen,  opening 
Parliament  in  person,  announced  her  inten- 
tion to  marry  her  cousin,  Prince  Albert  of 
Saxe-Coburg-Gotha — a step  which  she  trust- 
ed would  be  “ conducive  to  the  interests  of 
my  people  as  well  as  to  my  own  domestic 
happiness.”  In  the  discussion  which  fol- 
lowed in  the  House  of  Commons,  Sir  Robert 
Peel  observed  that  her  Majesty  had  “the 
singular  good  fortune  to  be  able  to  gratify 
her  private  feelings,  while  she  performs  her 
public  duty,  and  to  obtain  the  best  guaran- 


tee for  happiness  by  contracting  an  alliance 
founded  on  affection.”  Peel  spoke  the  sim- 
ple truth  ; it  was  indeed  a marriage  founded 
on  affection.  No  marriage  contracted  in  the 
humblest  class  could  have  been  more  entirely 
a union  of  love,  and  more  free  from  what 
might  be  called  selfish  and  worldly  consider- 
ations. The  Queen  had  for  a long  time  loved 
her  cousin.  He  was  nearly  her  own  age,  the 
Queen  being  the  elder  by  three  months  and 
two  or  three  days.  Francis  Charles  Augus- 
tus Albert  Emmanuel  was  the  full  name  of 
the  young  Prince.  He  was  the  second  son  of 
Ernest,  Duke  of  Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld,  and 
of  his  wife  Louisa,  daughter  of  Augustus 
Duke  of  Saxe-Gotha-Altenberg.  Prince 
Albert  was  born  at  the  Rosenau,  one  of  his 
father’s  residences,  near  Coburg,  on  August 
26,  1819.  The  Court  historian  notices  with 
pardonable  complacency  the  “ remarkable 
coincidence” — easily  explained,  surely — that 
the  same  accoucheuse , Madame  Siebold,  assist- 
ed at  the  birth  of  Prince  Albert,  and  of  the 
Queen  some  three  months  before,  and  that 
the  Prince  was  baptized  by  the  clergyman, 
Professor  Genzler,  who  had  the  year  before 
officiated  at  the  marriage  of  the  Duke  and 
Duchess  of  Kent.  A marriage  between  the 
Princess  Victoria  and  Prince  Albert  had  been 
thought  of  as  desirable  among  the  families  on 
both  sides,  but  it  was  always  wisely  resolved 
that  nothing  should  be  said  to  the  young 
Princess  on  the  subject  unless  she  herself 
showed  a distinct  liking  for  her  cousin.  In 
1836,  Prince  Albert  was  brought  by  his  fa- 
ther to  England,  and  made  the  personal  ac- 
quaintance of  the  Princess,  and  she  seems  at 
once  to  have  been  drawn  towards  him  in  the 
manner  which  her  family  and  friends  would 
most  have  desired.  Three  years  later  the 
Prince  again  came  to  England,  and  the 
Queen,  in  a letter  to  her  uncle,  the  King  of 
the  Belgians,  wrote  of  him  in  the  warmest 
terms.  “ Albert’s  beauty,”  she  said,  “ is 
most  striking,  and  he  is  most  amiable  and 
unaffected — in  short,  very  fascinating.” 
Not  many  days  after  she  wrote  to  another 
friend  and  faithful  counsellor,  the  Baron 
Stockmar,  to  say,  “I  do  feel  so  guilty  I 
know  not  how  to  begin  my  letter  ; but  I 
think  the  news  it  will  contain  will  be  suffi- 
cient to  ensure  your  forgiveness.  Albert  has 
completely  won  my  heart,  and  all  was  settled 
between  us  this  morning.  ’ ’ The  Queen  had 
just  before  informed  Lord  Melbourne  of  her 
intention,  and  Lord  Melbourne,  it  is  needless 
to  say,  expressed  his  decided  approval. 
There  was  no  one  to  disapprove  of  such  a 
marriage. 

Prince  Albert  was  a young  man  to  win  the 
heart  of  any  girl.  He  was  singularly  hand- 
some, graceful  and  gifted.  In  princes,  as  we 
know,  a small  measure  of  beauty  and  accom- 
plishment suffices  to  throw  courtiers  and 
court  ladies  into  transports  of  admiration  ; 
but  had  Prince  Albert  been  the  son  of  a farm- 
er or  a butler,  he  must  have  been  admired 
for  his  singular  personal  attractions.  He 
had  had  a sound  and  a varied  education.  He 
had  been  brought  up  as  if  he  were  to  be  a 
professional  musician,  a professional  chemist 
or  botanist,  and  a professor  of  history  and 
belles  lettres  and  the  fine  arts.  The  scientific 
and  the  literary  were  remarkably  blended  in 
his  bringing-up  ; remarkably,  that  is  to  say, 
for  some  half-century  ago,  when  even  in  Ger- 
many a system  of  education  seldom  aimed  at 
being  lotus,  teres  atque  rotundus.  He  had  be- 
gun to  study  the  constitutional  history  of 
States,  and  was  preparing  himself  to  take  an 
interest  in  politics.  There  was  much  of  the 
practical  and  business-like  about  him,  as  he 
showed  in  after-life  ; he  loved  farming  and 
took  a deep  interest  in  machinery  and  in  the 
growth  of  industrial  science.  He  was  a sort 
of  combination  of  the  troubadour,  the  savant, 
and  the  man  of  business.  His  tastes  were 
for  a quiet,  domestic  and  unostentatious  life — 
a life  of  refined  culture,  of  happy  calm  even- 
ings, of  art  and  poetry  and  genial  communion 
with  Nature.  He  was  made  happy  by  the 


songs  of  birds,  and  delighted  in  sitting  alone 
and  playing  the  organ.  But  there  was  in 
him  too  a great  deal  of  the  political  philoso- 
pher. He  loved  to  hear  political  and  other 
questions  well  argued  out,  and  once  observed 
that  a false  argument  jarred  on  his  nerves  as 
much  as  a false  note  in  music.  He  seems  to 
have  had  from  his  youth  an  all-pervading 
sense  of  duty.  So  far  as  we  can  guess,  he 
was  almost  absolutely  free  from  the  ordinary 
follies,  not  to  say  sins,  of  youth.  Young  as 
he  was  when  he  married  the  Queen,  he  de- 
voted himself  at  once  to  what  he  conscien- 
tiously believed  to  be  the  duties  of  his  station 
with  a self-control  and  self-devotion  rare 
even  among  the  aged,  and  almost  unknown 
in  youth.  He  gave  up  every  habit,  however 
familiar  and  dear,  every  predilection,  no  mat- 
ter how  sweet,  every  indulgence  of  sentiment 
or  amusement  that  in  any  way  threatened  to 
interfere  with  the  steadfast  performance  of 
the  part  be  had  assigned  to  himself.  No  man 
ever  devoted  himself  more  faithfully  to  the 
difficult  duties  of  a high  and  a new  situation, 
or  kept  more  strictly  to  his  resolve.  It  was 
no  task  to  him  to  be  a tender  husband  and  a 
loving  father.  This  was  a part  of  his  sweet, 
pure,  and  affectionate  nature.  It  may  well 
be  doubted  whether  any  other  queen  ever 
had  a married  life  so  happy  as  that  of  Queen 
Victoria. 

The  marriage  of  the  Queen  and  the  Prince 
took  place  on  February  10,  1840.  The  re- 
ception given  by  the  people  in  general  to  the 
Prince  on  his  landing  in  England  a few  days 
before  the  ceremony,  and  on  the  day  of  the 
marriage,  was  cordial  and  even  enthusiastic. 
But  it  is  not  certain  whether  there  was  a very 
cordial  feeling  to  the  Prince  among  all  classes 
of  politicians.  A rumor  of  the  most  absurd 
kind  had  got  abroad  in  certain  circles  that  the 
young  Albert  was  not  a Protestant — that  he 
was  in  fact  a member  of  the  Church  of  Rome. 
In  a different  circle  the  belief  was  curiously 
cherished  that  the  Prince  was  a free-thinker 
in  matters  of  religion  and  a radical  in  politics. 
Somewhat  unfortunately,  the  declaration  of 
the  intended  marriage  to  the  Privy  Council 
did  not  mention  the  fact  that  Albert  was  a 
Protestant  Prince.  The  Cabinet  no  doubt 
thought  that  the  leaders  of  public  opinion  on 
all  sides  of  politics  would  have  had  historical 
knowledge  among  them  to  teach  them  that 
Prince  Albert  belonged  to  that  branch  of  the 
Saxon  family  which  since  the  Reformation 
had  been  conspicuously  Protestant.  “ There 
has  not,”  Prince  Albert  himself  wrote  to  the 
Queen  on  December  7,  1839,  ‘ ' been  a single 
Catholic  princess  introduced  into  the  Coburg 
family  since  the  appearance  of  Luther  in 
1521.  Moreover  the  Elector  Frederick  the 
Wise  of  Saxony  was  the  very  first  Protestant 
that  ever  lived.”  No  doubt  the  Ministry 
thought  also  that  the  constitutional  rule 
which  forbids  an  English  sovereign  to  marry 
with  a Roman  Catholic  under  penalty  of  for- 
feiting the  crown,  would  be  regarded  as  a 
sufficient  guarantee  that  when  they  announc- 
ed the  Queen’s  approaching  marriage  it  must 
be  a marriage  with  a Protestant.  All  this 
assumption,  however  reasonable  and  na- 
tural, did  not  find  warrant  in  the  events 
that  actually  took  place.  It  would  have  been 
better  of  course  if  the  Government  had  as- 
sumed that  Parliament  and  the  public  gener- 
ally knew  nothing  about  the  Prince  and  his 
ancestry,  or  the  constitutional  penalties  for 
a member  of  the  Royal  Family  marrying  a 
Catholic,  and  had  formally  announced  that 
the  choice  of  Queen  Victoria  had  happily 
fallen  on  a Protestant.  The  wise  and  fore- 
seeing Leopold,  King  of  the  Belgians,  had 
recommended  that  the  fact  should  be  specifi- 
cally mentioned  ; but  it  was  perhaps  a part 
of  Lord  Melbourne’s  indolent  good  nature  to 
take  it  for  granted  that  people  generally 
would  be  calm  and  reasonable,  and  that  all 
would  go  right  without  interruption  or  cavil. 
He  therefore  acted  on  the  assumption  that 
any  formal  mention  of  Prince  Albert’s  Prot- 
estantism would  be  superfluous ; and  nei- 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


21 


tlier  in  the  declaration  to  the  Privy  Council, 
nor  in  the  announcement  to  Parliament,  was 
a word  said  upon  the  subject.  The  result 
was  that  in  the  debate  on  the  address  in  the 
House  of  Lords  a somewhat  unseemly  alter- 
cation took  place,  an  altercation  the  more  to 
be  regretted  because  it  might  have  been  so 
easily  spared.  The  question  was  bluntly 
raised  by  no  less  a person  than  the  Duke  of 
Wellington  whether  the  future  husband  of 
the  Queen  was  or  was  not  a Protestant.  The 
Duke  actually  charged  the  Ministry  with 
having  purposely  left  out  the  word  “ Protes- 
tant” in  the  announcements  in  order  that 
they  might  not  offend  their  Irish  and  Catho- 
lic supporters,  and  by  the  very  charge  did 
much  to  strengthen  the  popular  feeling 
against  the  statesmen  who  were  supposed  to 
be  kept  in  office  by  virtue  of  the  patronage 
of  O’Connell.  The  Duke  moved  that  the 
word  “Protestant”  be  inserted  in  the  con- 
gratulatory address  to  the  Queen,  and  he 
carried  his  point,  although  Lord  Melbourne 
held  to  the  opinion  that  the  word  was  un- 
necessary in  describing  a Prince  who  was 
not  only  a Protestant  but  descended  from  the 
most  Protestant  family  in  Europe.  The  lack 
of  judgment  and  tact  on  the  part  of  the  Min- 
istry was  never  more  clearly  shown  than  in 
the  original  omission  of  the  word. 

Another  disagreeable  occurrence  was  the 
discussion  that  took  place  when  the  bill  for 
the  naturalization  of  the  Prince  was  brought 
before  the  House  of  Lords.  The  bill  in  its 
title  merely  set  out  the  proposal  to  provide 
for  the  naturalization  of  the  Prince  ; but  it 
contained  a clause  to  give  him  precedence 
for  life  “ next  after  her  Majesty,  in  Parlia- 
ment or  elsewhere,  as  her  Majesty  might 
think  proper.”  A great  deal  of  objection 
was  raised  by  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and 
Lord  Brougham  to  this  clause  ou  its  own 
merits  ; but,  as  was  natural,  the  objections 
were  infinitely  aggravated  by  the  singular 
want  of  judgment,  and  even  of  common  pro- 
priety, which  could  introduce  a clause  con- 
ferring on  the  Sovereign  powers  so  large  and 
so  new  into  a mere  naturalization  bill,  with- 
out any  previous  notice  to  Parliament.  The 
matter  was  ultimately  settled  by  allowing 
the  bill  to  remain  a simple  naturalization 
measure,  and  leaving  the  question  of  prece- 
dence to  be  dealt  with  by  Royal  prerogative. 
Both  the  great  political  parties  concurred 
without  further  difficulty  in  an  arrangement 
by  which  it  was  provided  in  letters  patent 
that  the  Prince  should  thenceforth  upon  all 
occasions,  and  in  all  meetings,  except  when 
otherwise  provided  by  Act  of  Parliament, 
have  precedence  next  to  the  Queen.  There 
never  w.ould  have  been  any  difficulty  in  the 
matter  if  the  Ministry  had  acted  with  any 
discretion  ; but  it  would  be  absurd  to  expect 
that  a great  nation,  whose  constitutional  sys- 
tem is  built  up  of  precedents,  should  agree  at 
once  and  without  demur  to  every  new  ar- 
rangement which  it  might  seem  convenient 
to  a Ministry  to  make  in  a hurry.  Yet  an- 
other source  of  dissatisfaction  to  the  palace 
and  the  people  was  created  by  the  manner  in 
which  the  Ministry  took  upon  themselves  to 
bring  forward  the  proposition  for  the  settle- 
ment of  an  annuity  on  the  Prince.  In  for- 
mer cases — that,  for  example,  of  Queen  Char- 
lotte, Queen  Adelaide,  and  Prince  Leopold 
on  his  marriage  with  the  Princess  Charlotte 
— the  annuity  granted  had  been  50,000?.  It 
so  happened,  however,  that  the  settlement  to 
be  made  on  Prince  Albert  came  in  times 
of  great  industrial  and  commercial  distress. 
The  days  had  gone  by  when  economy  in  the 
House  of  Commons  was  looked  upon  as  an 
ignoble  principle,  and  when  loyalty  to  the 
Sovereign  was  believed  to  bind  members  of 
Parliament  to  grant  without  a murmur  of 
discussion  any  sums  that  might  be  asked  by 
the  minister  in  the  Sovereign’s  name.  Par- 
liament was  beginning  to  feel  more  thor- 
oughly its  responsibility  as  the  guardian  of 
the  nation’s  resources,  and  it  was  no  longer 
thought  a fine  thing  to  give  away  the  money 


of  the  taxpayer  with  magnanimous  indiffer- 
ence. It  was  therefore  absurd  on  the  part  of 
the  Ministry  to  suppose  that  because  great 
sums  of  money  had  been  voted  without  ques- 
tion on  former  occasions,  they  would  be 
voted  without  question  now.  It  is  quite  pos- 
sible that  the  whole  matter  might  have  been 
settled  without  controversy  if  the  Ministry 
had  shown  any  judgment  whatever  in  their 
conduct  of  the  business.  In  our  day  the 
Ministry  would  at  once  have  consulted  the 
leaders  of  the  Opposition.  In  all  matters 
where  the  grant  of  money  to  any  one  connect- 
ed with  the  Sovereign  is  concerned,  it  is  now 
understood  that  the  gift  shall  come  with  the 
full  concurrence  of  both  parties  in  Parlia- 
ment. The  leader  of  the  House  of  Commons 
would  probably,  by  arrangement,  propose  the 
grant,  and  the  leader  of  the  Opposition 
would  second  it.  In  the  case  of  the  annuity 
to  Prince  Albert,  the  Ministry  had  the  al- 
most incredible  folly  to  bring  forward  their 
proposal  without  having  invited  in  any  way 
the  concurrence  of  the  Opposition.  They 
introduced  the  proposal  without  discretion  ; 
th§y  conducted  the  discussion  on  it  without 
temper.  They  answered  the  most  reasonable 
objections  with  imputations  of  want  of  loy- 
alty ; and  they  gave  some  excuse  for  the  sus- 
picion that  they  wished  to  provoke  the  Op- 
position into  some  expression  that  might 
make  them  odious  to  the  Queen  aud  the 
Prince.  Mr.  Hume,  the  economist,  proposed 
that  the  annuity  be  reduced  from  50,000?.  to 
21,000?.  This  was  negatived.  Thereupon 
Colonel  Sibthorp,  a once  famous  Tory  fanat- 
ic of  the  most  eccentric  manners  and  opin- 
ions, proposed  that  the  sum  be  30,000?.,  and 
he  received  the  support  of  Sir  Robert  Peel 
and  other  eminent  members  of  the  Oppo- 
sition ; and  the  amendment  was  carried. 

These  were  not  auspicious  incidents  to  pre- 
lude the  Royal  marriage.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  for  a time  the  Queen,  still  more 
than  the  Prince,  felt  their  influence  keenly. 
The  Prince  showed  remarkable  good  sense 
and  appreciation  of  the  condition  of  political 
arrangements  in  England,  and  readily  com- 
prehended that  there  was  nothing  personal  to 
himself  in  any  objections  which  the  House 
of  Commons  might  have  made  to  the  pro- 
posals of  the  Ministry.  The  question  of  pre- 
cedence was  very  easily  settled  when  it  came 
to  be  discussed  in  reasonable  fashion  ; al- 
though it  was  not  until  many  years  after, 
1857,  that  the  title  of  Prince  Consort  was 
given  to  the  husband  of  the  Queen. 

A few  months  after  the  marriage,  a bill 
was  passed  providing  for  a regency  in  the 
possible  event  of  the  death  of  the  Queen, 
leaving  issue.  With  the  entire  concurrence 
of  the  leaders  of  the  Opposition,  who  were 
consulted  this  time,  Prince  Albert  was  nam- 
ed Regent,  following  the  precedent  which 
had  been  adopted  in  the  instance  of  the  Prin- 
cess Charlotte  and  Prince  Leopold.  The 
Duke  of  Sussex,  uncle  of  the  Queen,  alone 
dissented  in  the  House  of  Lords,  and  record- 
ed his  protest  against  the  proposal.  The  pass- 
ing of  this  bill  was  naturally  regarded  as  of 
much  importance  to  Prince  Albert.  It  gave 
him  to  some  extent  the  status  iu  the  country 
which  he  had  not  had  before.  It  also  proved 
that  the  Prince  himself  had  risen  in  the  esti- 
mation of  the  Tory  party  during  the  few 
months  that  elapsed  since  the  debates  on  the 
annuity  and  the  question  of  precedence.  No 
one  could  have  started  with  a more  resolute 
determination  to  stand  clear  of  party  politics 
than  Prince  Albert.  He  accepted  at  once 
his  position  as  the  husband  of  the  Queen  of  a 
constitutional  country.  His  own  idea  of  his 
duty  was  that  he  should  be  the  private  secre- 
tary and  unofficial  counsellor  of  the  Queen. 
To  this  purpose  he  devoted  himself  unswer- 
vingly. Outside  that  part  of  his  duties,  he 
constituted  himself  a sort  of  minister  with- 
out portfolio  of  art  and  education.  He  took 
an  interest,  and  often  a leading  part,  in  all 
projects  and  movements  relating  to  the  spread 
of  education,  the  culture  of  art,  and  the  pro- 


motion of  industrial  science.  Yet  it  was  long 
before  he  was  thoroughly  understood  by  the 
country.  It  was  long  before  he  became  in 
any  degree  popular  ; and  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  he  ever  was  thoroughly  and  gener- 
ally popular.  Not  perhaps  until  his  untime- 
ly death  did  the  country  find  out  how  entire- 
ly disinterested  and  faithful  his  life  had  been, 
and  how  he  had  made  the  discharge  of  duty 
his  business  and  his  task.  His  character  was 
one  which  is  liable  to  be  regarded  by  ordi- 
nary observers  as  possessing  none  but  nega- 
tive virtues.  He  was  thought  to  be  cold, 
formal  and  apathetic.  His  manners  were 
somewhat  shy  and  constrained,  except  when 
he  was  in  the  company  of  those  he  loved, 
and  then  he  commonly  relaxed  into  a kind  of 
boyish  freedom  and  joyousness.  But  to  the 
public  in  general  he  seemed  formal  and  chill- 
ing. It  is  not  only  Mr.  Pendennis  who  con- 
ceals his  gentleness  under  a shy  and  pomp- 
ous demeanor.  With  all  his  ability,  his 
anxiety  to  learn,  his  capacity  for  patient 
study,' and  his  willingness  to  welcome  new 
ideas,  he  never  perhaps  quite  understood  the 
genius  of  the  English  political  system.  His 
faithful  friend  and  counsellor,  Baron  Stock- 
mar,  was  not  the  man  best  calculated  to  set 
him  right  on  this  subject.  Both  were  far 
too  eager  to  find  in  the  English  Constitution 
a piece  of  symmetrical  mechanism,  or  to 
treat  it  as  a written  code  from  which  one 
might  take  extracts  or  construct  summaries 
for  constant  reference  and  guidance.  But 
this  was  not  in  the  beginning  the  cause  of  any 
coldness  towards  the  Prince  on  the  part  of 
the  English  public.  Prince  Albert  had  not 
the  ways  of  an  Englishman,  and  the  tendency 
of  Englishmen,  then  as  now,  was  to  assume 
that  to  have  manners  other  than  those  of  an 
Englishman  was  to  be  so  far  unworthy  of 
confidence.  He  was  not  made  to  shine  in 
commonplace  society.  He  could  talk  admir- 
ably about  something,  but  he  had  not  the  gift 
of  talking  about  nothing,  and  probably 
would  not  have  cared  much  to  cultivate  such 
a faculty.  He  was  fond  of  suggesting  small 
innovations  and  improvements  in  established 
systems,  to  the  annoyance  of  men  with  set 
ideas,  who  liked  their  own  ways  best.  Thus 
it  happened  that  he  remained  for  many  years, 
if  not  exactly  unappreciated,  yet  not  thor- 
oughly appreciated,  and  that  a considerable 
and  very  influential  section  of  society  was  al- 
ways ready  to  cavil  at  what  he  said,  and  find 
motive  for  suspicion  in  most  things  that  he 
did.  Perhaps  he  was  best  understood  and 
most  cordially  appreciated  among  the  poorer 
classes  of  his  wife’s  subjects.  He  found  also 
more  cordial  approval  generally  among  the 
Radicals  than  among  the  Tories,  or  even  the 
Whigs. 

One  reform  which  Prince  Albert  worked 
earnestly  to  bring  about  was  the  abolition  of 
duelling  in  the  army,  and  the  substitution  of 
some  system  of  courts  of  honorable  arbitra- 
tion to  supersede  the  barbaric  recourse  to  the 
decision  of  weapons.  He  did  not  succeed  in 
having  his  courts  of  honor  established.  There 
was  something  too  fanciful  in  the  scheme  to 
attract  the  authorities  of  our  two  services  ; 
and  there  were  undoubtedly  many  practical 
difficulties  in  the  way  of  making  such  a sys- 
tem effective.  But  he  succeeded  so  far,  that 
he  induced  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and  the 
heads  of  the  services  to  turn  their  attention 
very  seriously  to  the  subject,  and  to  use  all 
the  influence  in  their  power  for  the  purpose 
of  discouraging  and  discrediting  the  odious 
practice  of  the  duel.  It  is  carrying  courtly 
politeness  too  far  to  attribute  the  total  disap- 
pearance of  the  duelling  system,  as  one  biog- 
rapher seems  inclined  to  do,  to  the  personal 
efforts  of  Prince  Albert.  It  is  enough  to  his 
honor  that  he  did  his  best,  and  that  the  best 
was  a substantial  contribution  towards  so 
great  an  object.  But  nothing  cau  testify 
more  strikingly  to  the  rapid  growth  of  a gen- 
uine civilization  in  Queen  Victoria’s  reign 
than  the  utter  discontinuance  of  the  duelling 
system.  When  the  Queen  came  to  the 


22 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


throne,  and  for  years  after,  it  was  still  in  full 
force.  The  duel  plays  a conspicuous  part  in 
the  fiction  and  the  drama  of  the  reign’s  earlier 
years.  It  was  a common  incident  of  all  po- 
litical controversies.  It  was  an  episode  of 
most  contested  elections.  It  was  often  re- 
sorted to  for  the  purpose  of  deciding  the 
right  or  wrong  of  a half-drunken  quarrel 
over  a card  table.  It  formed  as  common  a 
theme  of  gossip  as  an  elopement  or  a bank- 
ruptcy. Most  of  the  eminent  statesmen  who 
were  prominent  in  the  earlier  part  of  the 
Queen's  reign  had  fought  duels.  Peel  and 
O’Connell  had  made  arrangements  for  a 
“meeting.”  Mr.  Disraeli  had  challenged 
O’Connell  or  any  of  the  sons  of  O’Connell. 
The  great  agitator  himself  had  killed  his  man 
in  a duel.  Mr.  Roebuck  had  gone  out ; Mr. 
Cobden  at  a much  later  period  had  been  vis- 
ited with  a challenge,  and  had  had  the  good 
sense  and  the  moral  courage  to  laugh  at  it. 
At  the  present  hour  a duel  in  England  would 
seem  as  absurd  and  barbarous  an  anachron- 
ism as  an  ordeal  by  touch  or  a witch-burn- 
ing. Many  years  have  passed  since  a duel 
was  last  talked  of  in  Parliament ; and  then  it 
was  only  the  subject  of  a reprobation  that 
had  some  work  to  do  to  keep  its  countenance 
while  administering  the  proper  rebuke.  But 
it  was  not  the  influence  of  any  one  man,  or 
even  any  class  of  men,  that  brought  about  in 
so  short  a time  this  striking  change  in  the 
tone  of  public  feeling  and  morality.  The 
change  wt  s part  of  the  growth  of  education 
and  of  civilization  ; of  the  strengthening  and 
broadening  influence  of  the  press,  the  plat- 
form, the  cheap  book,  the  pulpit,  and  the 
less  restricted  intercourse  of  classes. 

This  is  perhaps  as  suitable  a place  as  any 
other  to  introduce  some  notice  of  the  attempts 
that  were  made  from  time  to  time  upon  the 
life  of  the  Queen.  It  is  proper  to  say  some- 
thing of  them,  although  not  one  possessed 
the  slightest  political  importance,  or  could  be 
said  to  illustrate  anything  more  than  sheer 
lunacy,  or  that  morbid  vanity  and  thirst  for 
notoriety  that  is  nearly  akin  to  genuine  mad- 
ness. The  first  attempt  was  made  on  June 
10,  1840,  by  Edward  Oxford,  a potboy  of 
seventeen,  who  fired  two  shots  at  the  Queen 
as  she  was  driving  up  Constitution  Hill  with 
Prince  Albert.  Oxford  fired  both  shots  de- 
liberately enough,  but  happily  missed  in 
each  case.  He  proved  to  have  been  an  ab- 
surd creature,  half  crazy  with  a longing  to 
consider  himself  a political  prisoner  and  to 
be  talked  of.  When  he  was  tried,  the  jury 
pronounced  him  insane,  and  he  was  ordered 
to  be  kept  in  a lunatic  asylum  during  her 
Majesty’s  pleasure.  The  trial  completely 
dissipated  some  wild  alarms  that  were  felt, 
founded  chiefly  on  absurd  papers  in  Oxford’s 
possession,  about  a tremendous  secret  society 
called  “ Young  England,  ” having  among 
its  other  objects  the  assassination  of  royal 
personages.  It  is  not  an  uninteresting  illus- 
tration of  the  condition  of  public  feeling  that 
some  of  the  Irish  Catholic  papers  in  seeming 
good  faith  denounced  Oxford  as  an  agent  of 
the  Duke  of  Cumberland  and  the  Orange- 
men, and  declared  that  the  object  was  to  as- 
sassinate the  Queen  and  put  the  Duke  on  the 
throne.  The  trial  showed  that  Oxford  was  the 
agent  of  nobody,  and  was  impelled  by  nothing 
but  his  own  crack-brained  love  of  notoriety. 
The  finding  of  the  jury  was  evidently  some- 
thing of  a compromise,  for  it  is  very  doubtful 
whether  the  boy  was  insane  in  the  medical 
sense,  and  whether  he  was  fairly  to  be  held 
irresponsible  for  his  actions.  But  it  was  felt 
perhaps  that  the  wisest  course  was  to  treat 
him  as  a madman  ; and  the  result  did  not 
prove  unsatisfactory.  Mr.  Theodore  Martin, 
in  his  “Life  of  the  Prince  Consort,”  ex- 
presses a different  opinion.  He  thinks  it 
would  have  been  well  if  Oxford  had  been 
dealt  with  as  guilty  in  the  ordinary  way. 
“ The  best  commentary,”  he  says,  “ on  the 
lenity  thus  shown  was  pronounced  by  Ox- 
ford himself,  on  being  told  of  the  similar  at- 
tempts of  Francis  and  Bean  in  1842,  when  he 


declared  that  if  he  had  been  hanged  there 
would  have  been  no  more  shooting  at  the 
Queen.”  It  may  be  reasonably  doubted 
whether  the  authority  of  Oxford,  as  to  the 
general  influence  of  criminal  legislation  is 
very  valuable.  Against  the  philosophic 
opinion  of  the  half-crazy  young  potboy,  on 
which  Mr.  Martin  places  so  much  reliance, 
may  be  set  the  fact  that  in  other  countries 
where  attempts  on  the  life  of  the  sovereign 
have  been  punished  by  the  stern  award  of 
death,  it  has  not  been  found  that  the  execu- 
tion of  one  fanatic  was  a safe  protection 
against  the  murderous  fanaticism  of  another. 

On  May  30,  1842,  a man  named  John 
Francis,  son  of  a machinist  in  Drury  Lane, 
fired  a pistol  at  the  Queen  as  she  was  driving 
down  Constitution  Hill,  on  the  very  spot 
where  Oxford’s  attempt  was  made.  This 
was  a somewhat  serious  attempt,  for  Francis 
was  not  more  than  a few  feet  from  the  car- 
riage, which  fortunately  was  driving  at  a 
very  rapid  rate.  The  Queen  showed  great 
composure.  She  was  in  some  measure  pre- 
pared for  the  attempt,  for  it  seems  certain 
that  the  same  man  had  on  the  previous  even- 
ing presented  a pistol  at  the  royal  carriage, 
although  he  did  not  then  fire  it.  Francis 
was  arrested  and  put  on  trial.  He  was 
only  twenty-two  years  of  age,  and  although 
at  first  he  endeavored  to  brazen  it  out  and 
put  on  a sort  of  melodramatic  regicide  as- 
pect, yet  when  the  sentence  of  death  for  high 
treason  was  passed  on  him  he  fell  into  a 
swoon  and  was  carried  insensible  from  the 
court.  The  sentence  was  not  carried  into 
effect.  It  was  not  certain  whether  the  pistol 
was  loaded  at  all,  and  whether  the  whole 
performance  was  not  a mere  piece  of  brutal 
play-acting  done  out  of  a longing  to  be  noto- 
rious. Her  Majesty  herself  was  anxious 
that  the  death  sentence  should  not  be  carried 
into  effect,  and  it  was  finally  commuted  to 
one  of  transportation  for  life.  The  very  day 
after  this  mitigation  of  punishment  became 
publicly  known  another  attempt  was  made 
by  a hunch-backed  lad  named  Bean.  As  the 
Queen  was  passing  from  Buckingham  Palace 
to  the  Chapel  Royal,  Bean  presented  a pistol 
at  her  carriage,  but  did  not  succeed  in  firing 
it  before  his  hand  was  seized  by  a prompt 
and  courageous  boy  who  was  standing  near. 
The  pistol  was  found  to  be  loaded  with  pow- 
der, paper  closely  rammed  down,  and  some 
scraps  of  a clay  pipe.  It  may  be  asked 
whether  the  argument  of  Mr.  Martin  is  not 
fully  borne  out  by  this  occurrence,  and 
whether  the  fact  of  Bean’s  attempt  having 
been  made  on  the  day  after  the  commuta- 
tion of  the  capital  sentence  in  the  case  of 
Francis  is  not  evidence  that  the  leniency  in 
the  former  instance  was  the  cause  of  the  at- 
tempt made  in  the  latter.  But  it  was  made 
clear,  and  the  fact  is  recorded  on  the  author- 
ity of  Prince  Albert  himself,  that  Bean  had 
announced  his  determination  to  make  the  at- 
tempt several  days  before  the  sentence  of 
Francis  was  commuted,  and  while  Francis 
was  actually  lying  under  sentence  of  death. 
With  regard  to  Francis  himself,  the  Prince 
was  clearly  of  opinion  that  to  carry  out  the 
capital  sentence  would  have  been  nothing 
less  than  a judicial  murder,  as  it  is  essential 
that  the  act  should  be  committed  with  intent 
to  kill  or  wound,  and  in  Francis’s  case  to  all 
appearance  this  was  not  the  fact,  or  at  least 
it  was  open  to  grave  doubt.  In  this  calm 
and  wise  way  did  the  husband  of  the  Queen, 
who  had  always  shared  with  her  whatever 
of  danger  there  might  be  in  the  attempts, 
argue  as  to  the  manner  in  which  they  ought 
to  be  dealt  with.  The  ambition  which  most 
or  all  of  the  miscreants  who  thus  disturbed 
the  Queen  and  the  country  was  that  of  the 
mountebank  rather  than  of  the  assassin. 
The  Queen  herself  showed  how  thoroughly 
she  understood  the  significance  of  all  that  had 
happened,  when  she  declared,  according  to 
Mr.  Martin,  that  she  expected  a repetition  of 
the  attempts  on  her  life  so  long  as  the  law 
remained  unaltered  by  which  they  could  be 


dealt  with  only  as  acts  of  high  treason.  The 
seeming  dignity  of  martyrdom  had  something 
fascinating  in  it  to  morbid  vanity  or  crazy 
fanaticism,  while  on  the  other  hand  it  was 
almost  certain  that  the  martyr’s  penalty 
would  not  in  the  end  be  inflicted.  A very 
appropriate  change  in  the  law  was  effected 
by  which  a punishment  at  once  sharp  and 
degrading  was  provided  even  for  mere 
mountebank  attempts  against  the  Queen  ; a 
punishment  which  was  certain  to  be  inflicted. 
A bill  was  introduced  by  Sir  Robert  Peel 
making  such  attempts  punishable  by  trans- 
portation for  seven  years,  or  by  imprison- 
ment for  a term  not  exceeding  three  years, 
“ the  culprit  to  be  publicly  or  privately 
whipped  as  often  and  in  such  manner  as  the 
court  shall  direct,  not  exceeding  thrice.” 
Bean  was  convicted  under  this  act  and  sen- 
tenced to  eighteen  months’  imprisonment  in 
Millbank  Penitentiary.  This  did  not, however, 
conclude  the  attacks  on  the  Queen.  An 
Irish  bricklayer,  named  Hamilton,  fired  a 
pistol,  charged  only  with  powder,  at  her 
Majesty,  on  Constitution  Hill,  on  May  19, 
1849,  and  was  sentenced  to  seven  years’ 
transportation.  A man  named  Robert  Pate, 
once  a lieutenant  of  hussars,  struck  het 
Majesty  on  the  face  with  a stick  as  she  was 
leaving  the  Duke  of  Cambridge’s  residence 
in  her  carriage  on  May  27,  1850.  This  man 
was  sentenced  to  seven  years’  transportation, 
but  the  judge  paid  so  much  attention  to  the 
plea  of  insanity  set  up  on  his  behalf,  as  to 
omit  from  his  punishment  the  whipping 
which  might  have  been  ordered.  Finally,  on 
February  29,  1872,  a lad  of  seventeen,  namec 
Arthur  O’Connor,  presented  a pistol  at  the 
Queen  as  she  was  entering  Buckingham  Pal- 
ace after  a drive.  The  pistol,  however,  proved 
to  be  unloaded — an  antique  and  useless  or 
harmless  weapon,  with  a flint  lock  which  was 
broken,  and  in  the  barrel  a piece  of  greasy 
red  rag.  The  wretched  lad  held  a paper  in 
one  hand  which  was  found  to  be  some  sort 
of  petition  on  behalf  of  the  Fenian  prisoners. 
When  he  came  up  for  trial  a plea  of  insanity 
was  put  in  on  his  behalf,  but  he  did  not 
seem  to  be  insane  in  the  sense  of  being  irre- 
sponsible for  his  actions  or  incapable  of  un- 
derstanding the  penalty  they  involved,  and 
he  was  sentenced  to  twelve  months’  impris- 
onment and  a whipping.  We  have  hurried 
over  many  years  for  the  purpose  of  complet- 
ing this  painful  and  ludicrous  catalogue  of 
the  attempts  made  against  the  Queen.  It 
will  be  seen  that  in  not  a single  instance  was 
there  the  slightest  political  significance  to  be 
attached  to  them.  Even  in  our  own  softened 
and  civilized  time  it  sometimes  happens  that 
an  attempt  is  made  on  the  life  of  a sovereign 
which,  however  we  may  condemn  and  repro- 
bate it  on  moral  grounds,  yet  does  seem  to 
bear  a distinct  political  meaning,  and  to  show 
that  there  are  fanatical  minds  still  burning 
under  some  sense  of  national  or  personal 
wrong.  But  in  the  various  attacks  which 
were  made  on  Queen  Victoria  nothing  of  the 
kind  was  even  pretended.  There  was  no  op- 
portunity for  any  vaporing  about  Brutus  and 
Charlotte  Corday.  The  impulse,  where  it 
was  not  that  of  sheer  insanity,  was  of  kin  to 
the  vulgar  love  of  notoriety  in  certain  minds 
which  sets  on  those  whom  it  pervades  to 
mutilate  noble  works  of  art  and  scrawl  their 
autographs  on  the  marble  of  immortal  monu- 
ments. There  was  a great  deal  of  wisdom 
shown  in  not  dealing  too  severely  with  most 
of  these  offences  and  in  not  treating  them  too 
much  au  serieux.  Prince  Albert  himself  said 
that  “ the  vindictive  feeling  of  the  common 
people  would  be  a thousand  times  more 
dangerous  than  the  madness  of  individuals.” 
There  was  not  indeed  the  slightest  danger  at 
any  time  that  the  “ common  people”  of 
England  could  be  wrought  up  to  any  sympa- 
thy with  assassination  ; nor  was  this  what 
Prince  Albert  meant.  But  the  Queen  and 
her  husband  were  yet  new  to  power,  and  the 
people  had  not  quite  lost  all  memory  of  sov- 
ereigns who,  well-meaning  enough,  had  yet 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


23 


scarcely  understood  constitutional  govern- 
ment, and  there  were  wild  rumors  of  reac- 
tion this  way  and  revolution  that  way.  It 
might  have  fomented  a feeling  of  distrust 
and  dissatisfaction  if  the  people  had  seen  any 
disposition  on  the  part  of  those  in  authority 
to  strain  the  criminal  law  for  the  sake  of  en- 
forcing a death  penalty  against  creatures  like 
Oxford  and  Bean.  The  most  alarming  and 
unnerving  of  all  dangers  to  a ruler  is  that  of 
assassination.  Even  the  best  and  most 
blameless  sovereign  is  not  wholly  secure 
against  it.  The  hand  of  Oxford  might  have 
killed  the  Queen.  Perhaps,  however,  the 
best  protection  a sovereign  can  have  is  not  to 
exaggerate  the  danger.  There  is  no  safety  in 
mere  severity  of  punishment.  Where  the 
attempt  is  serious  and  desperate,  it  is  that  of 
a fanaticism  which  holds  its  life  in  its  hand, 
and  is  not  to  be  deterred  by  fear  of  death. 
The  tortures  of  Ravaillac  did  not  deter  Da- 
miens. The  birch  in  the  case  of  Bean  and 
O’Connor  may  effectively  discountenance  en- 
terprises which  are  born  of  the  mountebank’s 
and  not  the  fanatic’s  spirit. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  OPIUM  WAR. 

The  Opium  dispute  with  China  was  going 
on  when  the  Queen  came  to  the  throne.  The 
Opium  War  broke  out  soon  after.  On 
March  3,  1843,  five  huge  wagons,  each  of 
them  drawn  by  four  horses,  and  the  whole 
under  escort  of  a detachment  of  the  60th  Reg- 
iment, arrived  in  front  of  the  Mint.  An  im- 
mense crowd  followed  the  wagons.  It  was 
seen  that  they  were  filled  with  boxes ; and 
one  of  the  boxes  having  been  somewhat  bro- 
ken in  its  journey,  the  crowd  were  able  to  see 
that  it  was  crammed  full  of  odd-looking  sil- 
ver coins.  The*  lookers-on  were  delighted, 
as  well  as  amused,  by  the  sight  of  this  huge 
consignment  of  treasure ; and  when  it  be- 
came known  that  the  silver  money  was  the 
first  instalment  of  the  China  ransom,  there 
were  lusty  cheers  given  as  the  wagons 
passed  through  the  gates  of  the  Mint.  This 
was  a payment  on  account  of  the  war  indem- 
nity imposed  on  China.  Nearly  four  mil- 
lions and  a half  sterling  was  the  sum  of  the 
indemnity,  in  addition  to  one  million  and  a 
quarter  which  had  already  been  paid  by  the 
Chinese  authorities.  Many  readers  may 
remember  that  for  some  time  “ China 
money”  was  regularly  set  down  as  an  item 
in  the  revenues  of  each  year  with  which  the 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  had  to  deal. 
The  China  War,  of  which  this  money  was  the 
spoil,  was  not  perhaps  an  event  of  which  the 
nation  was  entitled  to  be  very  proud.  It 
was  the  precursor  of  other  wars  ; the  policy 
on  which  it  was  conducted  has  never  since 
ceased  altogether  to  be  a question  of  more  or 
less  excited  controversy  ; but  it  may  safely 
be  asserted  that  if  the  same  events  were  to 
occur  in  our  day  it  would  be  hardly  possible 
to  find  a Ministry  to  originate  a war,  for 
which  at  the  same  time  it  must  be  owned  that 
the  vast  majority  of  the  people,  of  all  politics 
and  classes,  were  only  too  ready  then  to  find 
excuse  and  even  justification.  The  wagon- 
loads of  silver  conveyed  into  the  Mint  amid 
the  cheers  of  the  crowd  were  the  spoils  of  the 
famous  Opium  War. 

Reduced  to  plain  words,  the  principle  for 
which  we  fought  in  the  China  War  was  the 
right  of  Great  Britain  to  force  a peculiar 
trade  upon  a foreign  people  in  spite  of  the 
protestations  of  the  Government  and  all  such 
public  opinion  as  there  was  of  the  nation. 
Of  course  this  was  not  the  avowed  motive  of 
the  war.  Not  often  in  history  is  the  real 
and  inspiring  motive  of  a war  proclaimed  in 
so  many  words  by  those  who  carry  it  on. 
Not  often,  indeed,  is  it  seen,  naked  and 
avowed,  even  in  the  minds  of  its  promoters 
themselves.  As  the  quarrel  between  this 
country  and  China  went  on,  a great  many 
minor  and  incidental  subjects  of  dispute  arose 
which  for  the  moment  put  the  one  main  and 
original  question  out  of  people’s  minds  ; and 


in  the  course  of  these  discussions  it  happened 
more  than  once  that  the  Chinese  authorities 
took  some  steps  which  put  them  decidedly  in 
the  wrong.  Thus  it  is  true  enough  that 
there  were  particular  passages  of  the  con- 
troversy when  the  English  Government  had 
all  or  nearly  all  of  the  right  on  their  side  so 
far  as  the  immediate  incident  of  the  dispute 
was  concerned  ; and  when,  if  that  had  been 
the  whole  matter  of  quarrel,  or  if  the  quarrel 
had  begun  there,  a patriotic  minister  might 
have  been  justified  in  thinking  that  the 
Chinese  were  determined  to  offend  England 
and  deserved  humiliation.  But  no  considera- 
tion of  this  kind  can  now  hide  from  our  eyes 
the  fact  that  in  the  beginning  and  the  very 
origin  of  the  quarrel  we  were  distinctly  in  the 
wrong.  We  asserted  or  at  least  acted  on  the 
assertion  of  a claim  so  unreasonable  and 
even  monstrous  that  it  never  could  have  been 
made  upon  any  nation  strong  enough  to  ren- 
der its  assertion  a matter  of  serious  respon- 
sibility. The  most  important  lessons  a nation 
can  learn  from  its  own  history  are  found  in 
the  exposure  of  its  own  errors.  Historians 
have  sometimes  done  more  evil  than  court 
flatterers  when  they  have  gone  about  to  glo- 
rify the  errors  of  their  own  people,  and  to 
make  wrong  appear  right,  because  an  Eng- 
lish Government  talked  the  public  opinion  of 
the  time  into  a confusion  of  principles. 

The  whole  principle  of  Chinese  civiliza- 
tion, at  the  time  when  the  Opium  War  broke 
out,  was  based  on  conditions  which  to  any 
modern  nation  must  seem  erroneous  and  un- 
reasonable. The  Chinese  governments  and 
people  desired  to  have  no  political  relations 
or  dealings  whatever  with  any  other  State. 
They  were  not  so  obstinately  set  against  pri- 
vate and  commercial  dealings ; but  they  would 
have  no  political  intercourse  with  foreigners, 
and  they  would  not  even  recognize  the  exist- 
ence of  foreign  peoples  as  States.  They  were 
perfectly  satisfied  with  themselves  and  their 
own  systems.  They  were  convinced  that 
their  own  systems  were  not  only  wise  but  ab- 
solutely perfect.  It  is  superfluous  to  say 
that  this  was  in  itself  evidence  of  ignorance 
and  self-conceit.  A belief  in  the  perfection 
of  their  own  systems  could  only  exist  among 
a people  who  knew  nothing  of  any  other  sys- 
tems. But  absurd  as  the  idea  must  appear 
to  us,  yet  the  Chinese  might  have  found  a 
good  deal  to  say  for  it.  It  was  the  result  of 
a civilization  so  ancient  that  the  oldest  events 
preserved  in  European  history  were  but  as 
yesterday  in  the  comparison.  Whatever  its 
errors  and  defects,  it  was  distinctly  a civiliza- 
tion. It  was  a system  with  a literature  and 
laws  and  institutions  of  its  own  ; it  was  a 
coherent  and  harmonious  social  and  political 
system  which  had  on  the  whole  worked  tol- 
erably well.  It  was  not  very  unlike  in  its 
principles  the  kind  of  civilization  which  at 
one  time  it  was  the  whim  of  men  of  genius, 
like  Rousseau  and  Diderot,  to  idealize  and 
admire.  The  European,  of  whatever  nation, 
may  be  said  to  like  change,  and  to  believe 
in  its  necessity.  His  instincts  and  his  con- 
victions alike  tend  this  way.  The  sleepiest 
of  Europeans — the  Neapolitan  who  lies  with 
his  feet  in  the  water  on  the  Chiaja  ; the 
Spaniard,  who  smokes  his  cigar  and  sips  his 
coffee  as  if  life  had  no  active  business  what- 
ever ; the  flaneur  of  the  Paris  boulevards  ; 
the  beggar  who  lounged  from  cabin  to  cabin 
in  Ireland  a generation  ago — all  these,  no 
matter  how  little  inclined  for  change  them- 
selves, would  be  delighted  to  hear  of  travel 
and  enterprise,  and  of  new  things  and  new 
discoveries.  But  to  the  Chinese,  of  all  East- 
ern races,  the  very  idea  of  travel  and  change 
was  something  repulsive  and  odious.  As  the 
thought  of  having  to  go  a day  unwashed 
would  be  to  the  educated  Englishman  of  our 
age,  or  as  the  edge  of  a precipice  is  to  a nerv- 
ous man,  so  was  the  idea  of  innovation  to  the 
Chinese  of  that  time.  The  ordinary  Oriental 
dreads  and  detests  change  ; but  the  Chinese 
at  that  time  went  as  far  beyond  the  ordinary 
Oriental  as  the  latter  goes  beyond  an  average 


Englishman.  In  the  present  day  a consider- 
able alteration  has  taken  place  in  this  respect. 
The  Chinese  have  had  innovation  after  in- 
novation forced  on  them,  until  at  last  they 
have  taken  up  with  the  new  order  of  things, 
like  people  who  feel  that  it  is  idle  to  resist 
their  fate  any  longer.  The  emigration  from 
China  has  been  as  remarkable  as  that  from 
Ireland  or  Germany  ; and  the  United  States 
finds  itself  confronted  with  a question  of  the 
first  magnitude  when  it  asks  itself  what  is  to 
be  the  influence  and  operation  of  the  descent 
of  the  Chinese  populations  along  the  Pacific 
slope.  Japan  has  put  on  modern  and  Euro- 
pean civilization  like  a garment.  Japan 
effected  in  a few  years  a revolution  in  the 
political  constitution  and  the  social  habits  of 
her  people,  and  in  their  very  way  of  looking 
at  things,  the  like  of  which  -no  other  State 
ever  accomplished  in  a century.  But  noth- 
ing of  all  this  was  thought  of  at  the  time  of 
the  China  War.  The  one  thing  which  China 
asked  of  European  civilization  and  the  thing 
called  Modern  Progress  was  to  be  let  alone. 
China’s  prayer  to  Europe  was  that  of  Dioge- 
nes to  Alexander — “stand  out  of  my  sun- 
shine.” 

It  was,  as  we  have  said,  to  political  re- 
lationships rather  than  to  private  and  com- 
mercial dealings  with  foreign  peoples  that  the 
Chinese  felt  an  unconquerable  objection. 
They  did  not  indeed  like  even  private  and 
commercial  dealings  with  foreigners.  They 
would  much  rather  have  lived  without  ever 
seeing  the  face  of  a foreigner.  But  they  had 
put  up  with  the  private  intrusion  of  foreign- 
ers and  trade,  and  had  had  dealings  with 
American  traders,  and  with  the  East  India 
Company.  The  charter  and  the  exclusive 
rights  of  the  East  India  Company  expired  in 
April,  1834  ; the  charter  was  renewed  under 
different  conditions,  and  the  trade  with 
China  was  thrown  open.  One  of  the  great 
branches  of  the  East  India  Company’s  busi- 
ness with  China  was  the  opium  trade. 
When  the  trading  privileges  ceased  this 
traffic  was  taken  up  briskly  by  private  mer- 
chants, who  bought  of  the  Company  the  opi- 
um which  they  grew  in  India  and  sold  it  to 
the  Chinese.  The  Chinese  governments, 
and  all  teachers,  moralists,  and  persons  of 
education  in  China,  had  long  desired  to  get 
rid  of  or  put  down  this  trade  in  opium. 
They  considered  it  highly  detrimental  to  the 
morals,  the  health  and  the  prosperity  of  the 
people.  Of  late  the  destructive  effects  of 
opium  have  often  been  disputed,  particularly 
in  the  House  of  Commons.  It  has  been  said 
that  it  is  not  on  the  average  nearly  so  un- 
wholesome as  the  Chinese  governments  al- 
ways thought,  and  that  it  does  not  do  as 
much  proportionate  harm  to  China  as  the  use 
of  brandy,  whiskey,  and  gin  does  to  England. 
It  seems  to  this  writer  hardly  possible  to 
doubt  that  the  use  of  opium  is,  on  the  whole, 
a curse  to  any  nation  ; but  even  if  this  were 
not  so,  the  question  between  England  and  the 
Chinese  governments  would  remain  just  the 
same.  The  Chinese  governments  may  have 
taken  exaggerated  views  of  the  evils  of  the 
opium  trade  ; their  motives  in  wishing  to  put 
it  down  may  have  been  mixed  with  consider- 
ations of  interest  as  much  political  as  philan- 
thropic. Lord  Palmerston  insisted  that  the 
Chinese  Government  were  not  sincere  in 
their  professed  objection  on  moral  grounds 
to  the  traffic.  If  they  were  sincere,  he 
asked,  why  did  they  not  prevent  the  growth 
of  the  poppy  in  China  ? It  was,  he  tersely 
put  it,  an  “ exportation  of  bullion  question, 
an  agricultural  protection  question  it  was 
a question  of  the  poppy  interest  in  China, 
and  of  the  economists  who  wished  to  prevent 
the  exportation  of  the  precious  metals.  It  is 
curious  that  such  arguments  as  this  could 
have  weighed  with  any  one  for  a moment.  It 
was  no  business  of  ours  to  ask  ourselves 
whether  the  Chinese  Government  were  per- 
fectly sincere  in  their  professions  of  a lofty 
morality,  or  whether  they,  unlike  all  other 
governments  that  have  ever  been  known. 


24 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


were  influenced  by  one  sole  motive  in  the 
making  of  their  regulations.  All  that  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  question.  States  are 
not  at  liberty  to  help  the  subjects  of  other 
States  to  break  the  laws  of  their  own  govern- 
ments. Especially  when  these  laws  even  pro- 
fess to  concern  questions  of  morals,  is  it  the 
duty  of  foreign  States  not  to  interfere  with 
the  regulations  which  a government  consid- 
ers it  necessary  to  impose  for  the  protection 
of  its  people.  All  traffic  in  opium  was  strict- 
ly forbidden  by  the  governments  and  laws 
of  China.  Yet  our  English  traders  carried 
on  a brisk  and  profitable  trade  in  the  forbid- 
den article.  Nor  was  this  merely  an  ordi- 
nary smuggling,  or  a business  akin  to  that 
of  the  blockade  running  during  the  Ameri- 
can civil  war.  The  arrangements  with  the 
Chinese  Government  allowed  the  existence  of 
all  establishments  and  machinery  for  carry- 
ing on  a general  trade  at  Canton  and  Macao  ; 
and  under  cover  of  these  arrangements  the 
opium  traders  set  up  their  regular  head-quar- 
ters in  these  towns. 

Let  us  find  an  illustration  intelligible  to  read- 
ers of  the  present  day  to  show  how  unjusti- 
fiable was  this  practice.  The  State  of 
Maine,  as  every  one  knows,  prohibits  the 
common  sale  of  spirituous  liquors.  Let  us 
suppose  that  several  companies  of  English 
merchants  were  formed  in  Portland  and  Au- 
gusta, and  the  other  towns  of  Maine,  for  the 
purpose  of  brewing  beer  and  distilling  whis- 
key, and  selling  both  to  the  public  of  Maine 
in  defiance  of  the  State  laws.  Let  us  further 
suppose  that  when  the  authorities  of  Maine 
proceeded  to  put  the  State  laws  in  force 
against  these  intruders,  our  Government  here 
took  up  the  cause  of  the  whiskey-sellers,  and 
sent  an  ironclad  fleet  to  Portland  to  compel 
the  people  of  Maine  to  put  up  with  them. 
It  seems  impossible  to  think  of  any  English 
Government  taking  such  a course  as  this  ; or 
of  the  English  public  enduring  it  for  one 
moment.  In  the  case  of  such  a nation  as  the 
United  States,  nothing  of  the  kind  would  be 
possible.  The  serious  responsibilities  of  any 
such  undertaking  would  make  even  the  most 
thoughtless  minister  pause,  and  would  give 
the  public  in  general  some  time  to  think  the 
matter  over  ; and  before  any  freak  of  the 
kind  could  be  attempted  the  conscience  of 
the  nation  would  be  aroused,  and  the  unjust 
policy  would  have  to  be  abandoned.  But  in 
dealing  with  China  the  Ministry  never  seems 
to  have  thought  the  right  or  wrong  of  the 
question  a matter  worthy  of  any  considera- 
tion. The  controversy  was  entered  upon 
with  as  light  a heart  as  a modern  war  of  still 
graver  moment.  The  people  in  general  knew 
nothing  about  the  matter  until  it  had  gone  so 
far  that  the  original  point  of  dispute  was  al- 
most out  of  sight,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  safe- 
ty of  English  subjects  and  the  honor  of  Eng- 
land were  compromised  in  some  way  by  the 
hgh-handed  proceedings  of  the  Chinese  Gov- 
ernment. 

The  English  Government  appointed  super- 
intendents to  manage  our  commercial  deal- 
ings with  China.  Unluckily  these  superin- 
tendents were  invested  with  a sort  of  politi- 
cal or  diplomatic  character,  and  thus  from 
the  first  became  objectionable  to  the  Chinese 
authorities.  One  of  the  first  of  these  super- 
intendents acted  in  disregard  of  the  express 
instructions  of  his  own  Government.  He 
was  told  that  he  must  not  pass  the  entrance 
of  the  Canton  river  in  a vessel  of  war,  as  the 
Chinese  authorities  always  made  a marked 
distinction  between  ships  of  war  and  mer- 
chant vessels  in  regard  to  the  freedom  of  in- 
tercourse. Misunderstandings  occurred  at 
every  new  step  of  negotiation.  These  mis- 
understandings were  natural.  Our  people 
knew  hardly  anything  about  the  Chinese. 
The  limitation  of  our  means  of  communica- 
tion with  them  made  this  ignorance  inevita- 
ble, but  certainly  did  not  excuse  our  acting 
as  if  we  were  in  possession  of  the  fullest  anil 
most  accurate  information.  The  manner  in 
which  some  of  our  official  instructors  went 


on  was  well  illustrated  by  a sentence  in  the 
speech  of  Sir  James  Graham,  during  the  de- 
bate on  the  whole  subject  in  the  House  of 
Commons  in  April,  1840.  It  was,  Sir  James 
Graham  said,  as  if  a foreigner  who  was  oc- 
casionally permitted  to  anchor  at  the  Nore, 
and  at  times  to  land  at  Wapping,  being  plac- 
ed in  close  confinement  during  his  continu- 
ance there,  were  to  pronounce  a deliberate 
opinion  upon  the  resources,  the  genius,  and 
the  character  of  the  British  Empire. 

Our  representatives  were  generally  dispos- 
ed to  be  unyielding  ; and  not  only  that,  but 
to  see  deliberate  offence  in  every  Chinese 
usage  or  ceremony  which  the  authorities  en- 
deavored to  impose  on  them.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  is  clear  that  the  Chinese  authorities 
thoroughly  detested  them  and  their  mission, 
and  all  about  them,  and  often  made  or  coun- 
tenanced delays  that  were  unnecessary,  and 
interferences  which  were  disagreeable  and 
offensive.  The  Chinese  believed  from  the 
first  that  the  superintendents  were  there 
merely  to  protect  the  opium  trade,  and  to 
force  on  China  political  relations  with  the 
West.  Practically  this  was  the  effect  of 
their  presence.  The  superintendents  took 
no  steps  to  aid  the  Chinese  authorities  in 
stopping  the  hated  trade.  The  British  trad- 
ers naturally  enough  thought  that  the  British 
Government  were  determined  to  protect  them 
in  earning  it  on.  Indeed  the  superintend- 
ents themselves  might  well  have  had  the 
same  conviction.  The  Government  at  home 
allowed  Captain  Elliott,  the  chief  superin- 
tendent, to  make  appeal  after  appeal  for  in- 
structions without  paying  the  slightest  atten- 
tion to  him.  Captain  Elliott  saw  that  the 
opium  traders  were  growing  more  and  more 
reckless  and  audacious ; that  they  were 
thrusting  their  trade  under  the  very  eyes  of 
the  Chinese  authorities.  He  also  saw,  as 
every  one  on  the  spot  must  have  seen,  that  the 
authorities,  who  had  been  somewhat  apathet- 
ic for  a long  time,  were  now  at  last  deter- 
mined to  go  any  lengths  to  put  down  the 
traffic.  At  length  the  English  Government 
announced  to  Captain  Elliott  the  decision 
which  they  ought  to  have  made  known 
months,  not  to  say  years  before,  that  “her 
Majesty’s  Government  could  not  interfere 
for  the  purpose  of  enabling  British  subjects 
to  violate  the  laws  of  the  country  with  which 
they  trade  and  that  “ any  loss  therefore 
which  such  persons  may  suffer  in  conse- 
quence of  the  more  effectual  execution  of  the 
Chinese  laws  on  this  subject  must  be  borne 
by  the  parties  who  have  brought  that  loss  on 
themselves  by  their  own  acts.”  This  very 
wise  and  proper  resolve  came,  however,  too 
late.  The  British  traders  had  been  allowed 
to  go  on  for  a long  time  under  the  full  con- 
viction that  the  protection  of  the  English 
Government  was  behind  them  and  wholly  at 
their  service.  Captain  Elliott  himself  seems 
to  have  now  believed  that  the  announcement 
of  his  superiors  was  but  a graceful  diplomatic 
figure  of  speech.  When  the  Chinese  author- 
ities actually  proceeded  to  insist  on  the  for- 
feiture of  an  immense  quantity  of  the  opium 
in  the  hand  of  British  traders,  and  took  other 
harsh  but  certainly  not  unnatural  measures 
to  extinguish  the  traffic,  Captain  Elliott  sent 
to  the  Governor  of  India  a request  for  as 
many  ships  of  war  as  could  be  spared  for  the 
protection  of  the  life  and  property  of  Eng- 
lishmen in  China.  Before  long  British  ships 
arrived  ; and  the  two  countries  were  at  war. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  describe  the  succes- 
sive steps  by  which  the  war  came  on.  It 
was  inevitable  from  the  moment  that  the 
English  superintendent  identified  himself 
with  the  protection  of  the  opium  trade.  The 
English  believed  that  the  Chinese  authorities 
were  determined  on  war,  and  only  waiting  for 
a convenient  moment  to  make  a treacherous 
beginning.  The  Chinese  were  convinced 
that  from  the  first  we  had  meant  nothing 
but  war.  Such  a condition  of  feeling  on 
both  sides  would  probably  have  made  war 
unavoidable,  even  in  the  case  of  two  nations 


who  had  far  much  better  ways  of  under- 
standing each  other  than  the  English  and 
Chinese.  It  is  not  surprising  if  the  English 
people  at  home  knew  little  of  the  original 
causes  of  the  controversy.  All  that  present- 
ed itself  to  their  mind  was  the  fact  that  Eng- 
lishmen were  in  danger  in  a foreign  countrv  ; 
that  they  were  harshly  treated  and  recklessly 
imprisoned  ; that  their  lives  were  in  jeopardy, 
and  that  the  flag  of  England  was'  insulted. 
There  was  a general  notion  too  that  the  Chi- 
nese were  a barbarous  and  a ridiculous  peo- 
ple who  had  no  alphabet  and  thought  them- 
selves much  better  than  any  other  people, 
even  the  English,  and  that  on  the  whole  it 
would  be  a good  thing  to  take  the  conceit  out 
of  them.  Those  who  remember  what  the 
common  feeling  of  ordinary  society  was  at 
the  time,  will  admit  that  it  did  not  reach  a 
much  loftier  level  than  this.  The  matter  was, 
however,  taken  up  more  seriously  in  Parlia- 
ment. 

The  policy  of  the  Government  was  chal- 
lenged in  the  House  of  Commons,  but  with 
results  of  more  importance  to  the  existing 
composition  of  the  English  Cabinet  than  to 
the  relations  between  this  country  and 
China.  Sir  James  Graham  moved  a resolu- 
tion condemning  the  policy  of  ministers  for 
having  by  its  uncertainty  and  other  errors 
brought  about  the  war,  which,  however,  he 
did  not  then  think  it  possible  to  avoid.  A de- 
bate which  continued  for  three  days  took 
place.  It  was  marked  by  the  same  curious 
mixture  of  parties  which  we  have  seen  in  de- 
bates on  China  questions  in  days  nearer  to 
the  present.  The  defence  of  the  Govern- 
ment was  opened  by  Mr.  Macaulay,  who 
had  been  elected  for  Edinburgh  and  appoint- 
ed Secretary  at  War.  The  defence  consisted 
chiefly  in  the  argument  that  we  could  not 
have  put  the  trade  in  opium  down,  no  mat- 
ter how  earnest  we  had  been,  and  that  it 
was  not  necessary  or  possible  to  keep  on  is- 
suing frequent  instructions  to  agents  so  far 
away  as  our  representatives  in  China.  Mr. 
Macaulay  actually  drew  from  our  experience 
in  India  an  argument  in  support  of  his  posi- 
tion. We  cannot  govern  India  from  Lon- 
don, he  insisted  ; we  must,  for  the  most 
part,  govern  India  in  India.  One  can  imag- 
ine how  Macaulay  would  in  one  of  his  essays 
have  torn  into  pieces  such  an  argument  com- 
ing from  any  advocate  of  a policy  opposed 
to  his  own.  The  reply,  indeed,  is  almost  too 
obvious  to  need  any  exposition.  In  India 
the  complete  materials  of  administration 
were  in  existence.  There  was  a Governor- 
General,  there  were  councillors,  there  was  an 
army.  The  men  best  qualified  to  rule  the 
country  were  there,  provided  with  all  the  ap- 
pliances and  forces  of  rule.  In  China  we  had 
an  agent  with  a vague  and  anomalous  office 
dropped  down  in  the  middle  of  a hostile  peo- 
ple, possessed  neither  of  recognized  author- 
ity nor  of  power  to  enforce  its  recognition. 
It  was  probably  true  enough  that  we  could 
not  have  put  down  the  opium  trade  ; that 
even  with  all  the  assistance  of  the  Chinese 
Government  we  could  have  done  no  more 
than  to  drive  it  from  one  port  in  order  to  see 
it  make  its  appearance  at  another.  But  what 
we  ought  to  have  done  is,  therefore,  only  the 
more  clear.  We  ought  to  have  announced 
from  the  first,  and  in  the  firmest  tone,  that 
we  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  trade  ; 
that  we  would  not  protect  it ; and  we  ought 
to  have  held  to  this  determination.  As  it 
was,  we  allowed  our  traders  to  remain  under 
the  impression  that  we  were  willing  to  sup- 
port them,  until  it  was  too  late  to  undeceive 
them  with  any  profit  to  their  safety  or  our 
credit.  The  Chinese  authorities  acted  after  a 
while  with  a high-handed  disregard  of  fair- 
ness, and  of  anything  like  what  we  should 
call  the  responsibility  of  law  ; but  it  is  evi- 
dent that  they  believed  they  were  themselves 
the  objects  of  lawless  intrusion  and  enter- 
prise. There  were  on  the  part  of  the  Gov- 
ernment great  efforts  made  to  represent  the 
motion  as  an  attempt  to  prevent  the  Minis- 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


35 


try  from  exacting  satisfaction  from  the  Chi 
uese  Government,  and  from  protecting  the 
lives  and  interests  of  Englishmen  in  China. 
But  it  is  unfortunately  only  too  often  the 
duty  of  statesmen  to  recognize  the  necessity 
of  carrying  on  a war,  even  while  they  are  of 
opinion  that  they  whose  mismanagement 
brought  about  the  war  deserve  condemna- 
tion. When  Englishmen  are  being  impris- 
oned and  murdered,  the  innocent  just  as  well 
as  the  guilty,  in  a foreign  country — when,  in 
short,  war  is  actually  going  on — it  is  not  pos- 
sible for  English  statesmen  in  opposition  to 
say,  “We  will  not  allow  England  to  strike  a 
blow  in  defence  of  our  fellow-countrymen 
and  our  flag,  because  we  are  of  opinion  that 
better  judgment  on  the  part  of  our  Govern- 
ment would  have  spared  us  the  beginning  of 
such  a war.”  There  was  really  no  inconsist- 
ency in  recognizing  the  necessity  of  carry- 
ing on  the  war,  and  at  the  same  time  censur- 
ing the  Ministry  who  had  allowed  the  neces- 
sity to  be  forced  upon  us.  Sir  Robert  Peel 
quoted  with  great  effect,  during  the  debate, 
the  example  of  Fox,  who  declared  his  readi- 
ness to  give  every  help  to  the  prosecution  of 
a war  which  the  very  same  day  he  proposed 
to  censure  the  Ministry  for  having  brought 
upon  the  country.  With  all  their  efforts,  the 
ministers  were  only  able  to  command  a ma- 
jority of  nine  votes  as  the  result  of  the  three 
days’  debate. 

The  war,  however,  went  on.  It  was  easy 
work  enough  so  far  as  England  was  concern- 
ed. It  was  on  our  side  nothing  but  a succes- 
sion of  cheap  victories.  The  Chinese  fought 
very  bravely  in  a great  many  instances  ; and 
they  showed  still  more  often  a Spartanlike 
resolve  not  to  survive  defeat.  When  one  of 
the  Chinese  cities  was  taken  by  Sir  Hugh 
Gough,  the  Tartar  general  went  into  his  house 
as  soon  as  he  saw  that  all  was  lost,  made  his 
servants  set  fire  to  the  building,  and  calmly 
sat  in  his  chair  until  he  was  burned  to  death. 
One  of  the  English  officers  writes  of  the  same 
attack,  that  it  was  impossible  to  compute  the 
loss  of  the  Chinese,  ‘ ‘ for  when  they  found 
they  could  stand  no  longer  against  us,  they 
cut  the  throats  of  their  wives  and  children, 
or  drove  them  into  wells  or  ponds,  and 
then  destroyed  themselves.  In  many  houses 
there  were  from  eight  to  twelve  dead  bodies, 
and  I myself  saw  a dozen  women  and  chil- 
dren drowning  themselves  in  a small  pond, 
the  day  after  the  fight.”  We  quickly  cap- 
tured the  island  of  Chusan,  on  the  east  coast 
of  China  ; a part  of  our  squadron  went  up 
the  Peiho  river  to  threaten  the  capital  ; ne- 
gotiations were  opened,  and  the  prelimina- 
ries of  a treaty  were  made  out,  to  which, 
however,  neither  the  English  Government 
nor  the  Chinese  would  agree,  and  the  war 
was  reopened.  Chusan  was  again  taken  by 
us  ; Ningpo,  a large  city  a few  miles  in  on  the 
mainland,  fell  into  our  hands  ; Amoy,  far- 
ther south,  was  captured  ; our  troops  were 
before  Nankin  when  the  Chinese  Govern- 
ment at  last  saw  how  futile  was  the  idea  of 
resisting  our  arms.  Their  women  or  their 
children  might  just  as  well  have  attempted 
to  encounter  our  soldiers.  With  all  the 
bravery  which  the  Chinese  often  displayed, 
there  was  something  pitiful,  pathetic,  ludi- 
crous, iu  the  simple  and  childlike  attempts 
which  they  made  to  carry  on  war  against  us. 
They  made  peace  at  last  on  any  terms  we 
chose  to  ask.  We  asked  in  the  first  instance 
the  cession  in  perpetuity  to  us  of  the  island 
of  Hong-Koug.  Of  course  we  got  it.  Then 
we  asked  that  five  ports,  Canton,  Amoy, 
Foo-Chow-Foo,  Ningpo,  and  Shanghai, 
should  be  thrown  open  to  British  trad- 
ers, and  that  consuls  should  be  established 
there.  Needless  to  say  that  this  too  was 
conceded.  Then  it  was  agreed  that  the  in- 
demnity already  mentioned  should  be  paid 
by  the  Chinese  Government — some  four  mil- 
lions and  a half  sterling,  in  addition  to  one 
million  and  a quarter  as  compensation  for 
the  destroyed  opium.  It  was  also  stipulated 
that  correspondence  between  officials  of  the 


two  Governments  was  thenceforth  to  be  car- 
ried on  upon  equal  terms.  The  war  was 
over  for  the  present,  and  the  thanks  of  both 
Houses  of  Parliament  were  voted  to  the  fleet 
and  army  engaged  in  the  operations.  The 
Duke  of  Wellington  moved  the  vote  of 
thanks  in  the  House  of  Lords.  He  could 
hardly  help,  one  would  think,  forming  in  his 
mind  as  he  spoke  an  occasional  contrast  be- 
tween the  services  which  he  asked  the  House 
to  honor,  and  the  sort  of  warfare  which  it 
had  been  his  glorious  duty  to  engage  in  so 
long.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  was  a sim- 
ple-minded man  with  little  sense  of  humor. 
He  did  not  probably  perceive  himself  the 
irony  that  others  might  have  seen  in  the  fact 
that  the  conqueror  of  Napoleon,  the  victor  in 
years  of  warfare  against  soldiers  unsurpassed 
in  history,  should  have  had  to  move  a vote 
of  thanks  to  the  fleet  and  army  which  tri- 
umphed over  the  unarmed,  helpless,  child- 
like Chinese. 

The  whole  chapter  of  history  ended,  not 
inappropriately  perhaps,  with  a rather  pitiful 
dispute  between  the  English  Government  and 
the  English  traders  about  the  amount  of 
compensation  to  which  the  latter  laid  claim 
for  their  destroyed  opium.  The  Govern- 
ment were  in  something  of  a difficulty  ; for 
they  had  formally  announced  that  they  were 
resolved  to  let  the  traders  abide  by  any  loss 
which  their  violation  of  the  laws  of  China 
might  bring  upon  them.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  they  had  identified  themselves  by  the 
war  with  the  cause  of  the  traders  ; and  one 
of  the  conditions  of  peace  had  been  the  com- 
pensation for  the  opium.  The  traders  in- 
sisted that  the  amount  given  for  this  purpose 
by  the  Chinese  Government  did  not  nearly 
meet  their  losses.  The  English  Government, 
on  the  other  hand,  would  not  admit  that  they 
were  bound  in  any  way  further  to  make  good 
the  losses  of  the  merchants.  The  traders  de- 
manded to  be  compensated  according  to  the 
price  of  opium  at  the  time  the  seizure  was 
made  ; a demand  which,  if  we  admit  any 
claim  at  all,  seems  only  fair  and  reasonable. 
The  Government  had  clearly  undertaken 
their  cause  in  the  end,  and  were  hardly  in  a 
position,  either  logical  or  dignified,  when 
they  afterwards  chose  to  say,  “ Yes,  we  ad- 
mit that  we  did  undertake  to  get  you  re- 
dress, but  we  do  not  think  now  that  we  are 
bound  to  give  you  full  redress.”  At  last 
the  matter  was  compromised  ; the  merchants 
had  to  take  what  they  could  get,  something 
considerably  below  their  demand,  and  give 
in  return  to  the  Government  an  immediate  ac- 
quittance in  full.  It  is  hard  to  get  up  any 
feeling  of  sympathy  with  the  traders  who  lost 
on  such  a speculation.  It  is  hard  to  feel  any 
regret  even  if  the  Government  which  had 
done  so  much  for  them  in  the  war  treated 
them  so  shabbily  when  the  war  was  over  ; 
but  that  they  were  treated  shabbily  in  the 
final  settlement  seems  to  us  to  allow  of  no 
doubt. 

The  Chinese  war  then  was  over  for  the 
time.  But  as  the  children  say  that  snow 
brings  more  snow,  so  did  that  war  with 
China  bring  other  wars  to  follow  it. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

DECLINE  AND  FALL  OF  THE  WHIG  MINISTRY. 

The  Melbourne  Ministry  kept  going  from 
bad  to  worse.  There  was  a great  stirring  in 
the  country  all  around  them,  which  made 
their  feebleness  the  more  conspicuous.  We 
sometimes  read  in  history  a defence  of  some 
particular  sovereign  whom  common  opinion 
cries  down,  the  defence  being  a reference  to 
the  number  of  excellent  measures  that  were 
set  in  motion  during  his  reign.  If  we  were 
to  judge  of  the  Melbourne  Ministry  on  the 
same  principle,  it  might  seem  indeed  as  if 
their  career  was  one  of  extreme  activity  and 
fruitfulness.  Reforms  were  astir  in  almost 
every  direction.  Inquiries  into  the  condition 
of  our  poor  and  our  laboring  classes  were,  to 
use  a cant  phrase  of  the  time,  the  order  of  the 
day.  The  foundation  of  the  colony  of  New 


Zealand  was  laid  with  a philosophical  delib- 
eration and  thoughtfulness  which  might  have 
reminded  one  of  Locke  and  the  Constitution 
of  the  Carolinas.  Some  of  the  first  compre- 
hensive and  practical  measures  to  mitigate 
the  rigor  and  to  correct  the  indiscriminate- 
ness of  the  death  punishment  were  taken 
during  this  period.  One  of  the  first  legisla- 
tive enactments  which  fairly  acknowledged 
the  difference  between  an  English  wife  and  a 
purchased  slave,  so  far  as  the  despotic  power 
of  the  master  was  concerned,  belongs  to  the 
same  time.  This  was  the  Custody  of  Infants 
Bill,  the  object  of  which  was  to  obtain  for 
mothers  of  irreproachable  conduct,  who 
through  no  fault  of  theirs  were  living  apart 
from  their  husbands,  occasional  access  to 
their  children,  with  the  permission  and  under 
the  control  of  the  Equity  Judges.  It  is  curi- 
ous to  notice  how  long  and  how  fiercely  this 
modest  measure  of  recognition  for  what  may 
almost  be  called  the  natural  rights  of  a wife 
and  a mother  was  disputed  in  Parliament,  or 
at  least  in  the  House  of  Lords. 

It  is  curious  too  to  notice  what  a clamor 
was  raised  over  the  small  contribution  to  the 
cause  of  national  education  which  was  made 
by  the  Melbourne  Government.  In  1834  the 
first  grant  of  public  money  for  the  purposes 
of  elementary  education  was  made  by  Parlia- 
ment. The  sum  granted  was  twenty  thou- 
sand pounds,  and  the  same  grant  was  made 
every  year  until  1839.  Then  Lord  John  Rus- 
sell asked  for  an  increase  of  ten  thousand 
pounds,  and  proposed  a change  in  the  man- 
ner of  appropriating  the  money.  Up  to  that 
time  the  grant  had  "been  distributed  through 
the  National  School  Society,  a body  in  direct 
connection  with  the  Church  of  England,  and 
the  British  and  Foreign  School  Association, 
which  admitted  children  of  all  Christian  de- 
nominations without  imposing  on  them  sec- 
tarian teaching.  The  money  was  dispensed 
by  the  Lords  of  the  Treasury,  who  gave  aid 
to  applicants  in  proportion  to  the  size  and 
cost  of  the  school  buildings  and  the  number 
of  children  who  attended  them.  Naturally 
the  result  of  such  an  arrangement  was  that 
the  districts  which  needed  help  the  most  got 
it  the  least.  If  a place  was  so  poor  as  not  to 
be  able  to  do  anything  for  itself,  the  Lords  of 
the  Treasury  would  do  nothing  for  it.  Nat- 
urally too  the  rich  and  powerful  Church  of 
England  secured  the  greater  part  of  the 
grant  for  itself.  There  was  no  inspection  of 
the  schools  ; no  reports  were  made  to  Parlia- 
ment as  to  the  manner  in  which  the  system 
worked  ; no  steps  were  taken  to  find  out  if 
the  teachers  were  qualified  or  the  teaching 
was  good.  “The  statistics  of  the  schools,” 
says  a writer  in  the  “Edinburgh  Review,” 
“ were  alone  considered : the  size  of  the 
schoolroom,  the  cost  of  the  building,  and  the 
number  of  scholars.”  In  1839  Lord  John 
Russell  proposed  to  increase  the  grant,  and  an 
Order  in  Council  transferred  its  distribution  to 
a Committee  of  the  Privy  Council  composed 
of  the  president  and  not  more  than  five  mem- 
bers. Lord  John  Russell  also  proposed  the 
appointment  of  inspectors,  the  founding  of  a 
model  school  for  the  training  of  teachers,  and 
the  establishment  of  infant  schools.  The 
model  school  and  the  infant  schools  were  to 
be  practically  unsectarian.  The  Committee 
of  the  Privy  Council  were  to  be  allowed  to 
depart  from  the  principle  of  proportioning 
their  grants  to  the  amount  of  local  contribu- 
tion, to  establish  iu  poor  and  crowded  places 
schools  not  necessarily  connected  with  either 
of  the  two  educational  societies,  and  to  ex- 
tend their  aid  even  to  schools  where  the 
Roman  Catholic  version  of  the  Bible  was 
read.  The  proposals  of  the  Government 
were  fiercely  opposed  in  both  Houses  of  Par- 
liament. The  most  various  and  fantastic 
forms  of  bigotry  combined  against  them. 
The  application  of  public  money,  and  es- 
pecially through  the  hands  of  the  Committee 
of  Privy  Council,  to  any  schools  not  under 
the  control  and  authority  of  the  Church  of 
England,  was  denounced  as  a State  recog- 


26 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


nition  of  popery  and  heresy.  Scarcely  less 
marvellous  to  us  now  are  the  speeches  of 
those  who  promoted  than  of  those  who  op- 
posed the  scheme.  Lord  John  Russell  him- 
self, who  was  much  in  advance  of  the  com- 
mon opinion  of  those  among  whom  he 
moved,  pleaded  for  the  principles  of  his 
measure  in  a tone  rather  of  apology  than  of 
actual  vindication.  He  did  not  venture  to 
oppose  point  blank  the  claim  of  those  who 
insisted  that  it  was  part  of  the  sacred  right 
of  the  Established  Church  to  have  the  teach- 
ing all  done  in  her  own  way  or  to  allow  no 
teaching  at  all. 

The  Government  did  not  get  all  they 
sought  for.  They  had  a fierce  fight  for  their 
grant,  and  an  amendment  moved  by  Lord 
Stanley,  to  the  effect  that  her  Majesty  be  re- 
quested to  revoke  the  Order  in  Council  ap- 
pointing the  Committee  on  Education,  was 
only  negatived  by  a majority  of  two  votes — 
275  to  273.  In  the  Lords,  to  which  the 
struggle  was  transferred,  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury  actually  moved  and  carried  by  a 
large  majority  an  address  to  the  Queen  pray- 
ing her  to  revoke  the  Order  in  Council.  The 
Queen  replied  firmly  that  the  funds  voted  by 
Parliament  would  be  found  to  be  laid  out  in 
strict  accordance  with  constitutional  usage, 
the  rights  of  conscience,  and  the  safety  of 
the  Established  Church,  and  so  dismissed  the 
question.  The  Government  therefore  suc- 
ceeded in  establishing  their  Committee  of 
Council  on  Education,  the  institution  by 
which  our  system  of  public  instruction  has 
been  managed  ever  since.  The  Ministry  on 
the  whole  showed  to  advantage  in  this  strug- 
gle. They  took  up  a principle  and  they 
stood  by  it.  If,  as  we  have  said,  the 
speeches  made  by  the  promoters  of  the 
scheme  seem  amazing  to  any  intelligent  per- 
son of  our  time  because  of  the  feeble,  apolo- 
getic, and  almost  craven  tone  in  which  they 
assert  the  claims  of  a system  of  national  ed- 
ucation, yet  it  must  be  admitted  that  the 
principle  was  accepted  by  the  Government  at 
some  risk,  and  that  it  was  not  shabbily  de- 
serted in  the  face  of  hostile  pressure.  It  is 
worth  noticing  that  while  the  increased  grant 
and  the  principles  on  which  it  was  to  be  dis- 
tributed were  opposed  by  such  men  as  Sir 
Robert  Peel,  Lord  Stanley,  Mr.  Gladstone, 
and  Mr.  Disraeli,  it  had  the  support  of  Mr. 
O'Connell  and  of  Mr.  Smith  O’Brien.  Both 
these  Irish  leaders  only  regretted  that  the 
grant  was  not  very  much  larger,  and  that  it 
was  not  appropriated  on  a more  liberal  prin- 
ciple. O’Connell  was  the  recognized  leader 
of  the  Irish  Catholics  and  nationalists  ; Smith 
O’Brien  was  an  aristocratic  Protestant. 
With  all  the  weakness  of  the  Whig  Ministry, 
their  term  of  office  must  at  least  be  remark- 
able for  the  new  departure  it  took  in  the  mat- 
ter of  national  education.  The  appoint- 
ment of  the  Committee  of  Council  marks  an 
epoch. 

Indeed  the  history  of  that  time  seems  full 
of  Reform  projects.  The  Parliamentary  an- 
nals contain  the  names  of  various  measures 
of  social  and  political  improvement  which 
might  in  themselves,  it  would  seem,  bear  wit- 
ness to  the  most  unsleeping  activity  on  the 
part  of  any  Ministry.  Measures  for  general 
registration  ; for  the  reduction  of  the  stamp 
duty  on  newspapers,  and  of  the  duty  on 
paper  ; for  the  improvement  of  the  jail  sys- 
tem ; for  the  spread  of  vaccination  ; for  the 
regulation  of  the  labor  of  children  ; for  the 
prohibition  of  the  employment  of  any  child 
or  young  person  under  twenty-one  in  the 
cleaning  of  chimneys  by  climbing  ; for  the 
suppression  of  the  punishment  of  the  pillory  ; 
efforts  to  relieve  the  Jews  from  civil  disabili- 
ties— these  are  but  a few  of  the  many  pro- 
jects of  social  and  political  reform  that  occu- 
pied the  attention  of  that  busy  period  which 
somehow  appears  nevertheless  to  have  been  so 
sleepy  and  do-nothing.  How  does  it  come 
about  that  we  can  regard  the  Ministry  in 
whose  time  all  these  things  were  done  or  at- 
tempted as  exhausted  and  worthless  ? 


One  answer  is  plain.  The  reforming  en- 
ergy was  in  the  time  and  not  in  the  Minis- 
try. In  every  instance  public  opinion  went 
far  ahead  of  the  inclinations  of  her  Majesty’s 
ministers.  There  was  a just  and  general 
conviction  that  if  the  Government  were  left 
to  themselves  they  would  do  nothing.  When 
they  were  driven  into  any  course  of  improve- 
ment they  usually  did  all  they  could  to  min- 
imize the  amount  of  reform  to  be  effected. 
Whatever  they  undertook  they  seemed  to  un- 
dertake reluctantly,  and  as  if  only  with  the 
object  of  preventing  other  people  from  hav- 
ing anything  to  do  with  it.  Naturally,  there- 
fore, they  got  little  or  no  thanks  for  any  good 
they  might  have  done.  When  they  brought 
in  a measure  to  abolish  in  various  cases  the 
punishment  of  death,  they  fell  so  far  behind 
public  opinion  and  the  inclinations  of  the 
Commission  that  had  for  eight  years  been 
inquiring  into  the  state  of  our  criminal  law, 
that  their  bill  only  passed  by  very  narrow 
majorities,  and  impressed  many  ardent  re- 
formers as  if  it  were  meant  rather  to  withhold 
than  to  advance  a genuine  reform.  In  truth 
it  was  a period  of  enthusiasm  and  of  growth, 
and  the  Ministry  did  not  understand  this. 
Lord  Melbourne  seems  to  have  found  it  hard 
to  persuade  himself  that  there  was  any  real 
anxiety  in  the  mind  of  any  one  to  do  anything 
in  particular.  He  had  apparently  got  into 
his  mind  the  conviction  that  the  only  sensible 
thing  the  people  of  England  could  do  was 
to  keep  up  the  Melbourne  Ministry,  and  that 
being  a sensible  people  they  would  naturally 
do  this.  He  had  grown  into  something  like 
the  condition  of  a pampered  old  hall-porter, 
who  dozing  in  his  chair  begins  to  look  on  it 
as  an  act  of  rudeness  if  any  visitor  to  his 
master  presumes  to  knock  at  the  door  and  so 
disturb  him  from  his  comfortable  rest. 

Any  one  who  doubts  that  it  was  really  a 
time  of  enthusiasm  in  these  countries  has  only 
to  glance  at  its  history.  The  Church  of  Eng- 
land and  the  Church  of  Scotland  were  alike 
convulsed  by  movements  which  were  the 
offspring  of  a genuine  and  irresistible  enthu- 
siasm— enthusiasm  of  that  strong  far-reach- 
ing kind  which  makes  epochs  in  the  history 
of  a church  or  a people.  In  Ireland  Father 
Mathew,  a pious  and  earnest  friar,  who  had 
neither  eloquence  nor  learning  nor  genius, 
but  only  enthusiasm  and  noble  purpose,  had 
stirred  the  hearts  of  the  population  in  the 
cause  of  temperance  as  thoroughly  as  Peter 
the  Hermit  might  have  stirred  the  heart  of  a 
people  to  a crusade.  Many  of  the  efforts  of 
social  reform  which  are  still  periodically 
made  among  ourselves  had  their  beginning 
then,  and  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  made 
much  advance  from  that  day  to  this.  In 
July,  1840,  Mr.  Hume  moved  in  the  House  of 
Commons  for  an  address  to  the  Throne  pray- 
ing that  the  British  Museum  and  the  National 
Gallery  might  be  opened  to  the  public  after 
Divine  service  on  Sundays,  “ at  such  hours 
as  taverns,  beershops  and  ginshops  are  legally 
open.”  The  motion  was  of  course  rejected  ; 
but  it  is  worthy  of  mention  now  as  an  evi- 
dence of  the  point  to  which  the  spirit  of  so- 
cial reform  had  advanced  at  a period  when 
Lord  Melbourne  had  seemingly  made  up  his 
mind  that  reform  had  done  enough  for  his 
generation,  and  that  ministers  might  be  al- 
lowed, at  least  during  his  time,  to  eat  their 
meals  in  peace  without  being  disturbed  by  the 
urgencies  of  restless  Radicals  or  threatened 
with  hostile  majorities  and  Tory  successes. 

The  Stockdaie  case  was  a disturbance  of 
ministerial  repose  which  at  one  time  threat- 
ened to  bring  about  a collision  between  the 
privileges  of  Parliament  and  the  authority  of 
the  law  courts.  The  Messrs.  Hansard,  the 
well-known  Parliamentary  printers,  had  pub- 
lished certain  Parliamentary  reports  on  pris- 
ons, in  which  it  happened  that  a book  pub- 
lished by  J.  J.  Stockdaie  was  described  as 
obscene  and  disgusting  in  the  extreme. 
Stockdaie  proceeded  against  the  Hansards  for 
libel.  The  Hansards  pleaded  the  authority 
of  Parliament ; but  Lord  Chief  Justice  Den- 


man decided  that  the  House  of  Commons 
was  not  Parliament,  and  had  no  authority  to 
sanction  the  publication  of  libels  on  individ- 
uals. Out  of  this  contradiction  of  authori- 
ties arose  a long  and  often  a very  unseemly 
squabble.  The  House  of  Commons  would 
not  give  up  its  privileges ; the  law  courts 
would  not  admit  its  authority.  Judgment 
was  given  by  default  against  the  Hansards 
in  one  of  the  many  actions  for  libel  which 
arose  out  of  the  affair,  and  the  sheriffs  of  Lon- 
don were  called  on  to  seize  and  sell  some  of 
the  Hansards’  property  to  satisfy  the  de- 
mands of  the  plaintiff.  The  unhappy 
sheriffs  were  placed,  as  the  homely  old  say- 
ing would  describe  it,  between  the  devil  and 
the  deep  sea.  If  they  touched  the  property 
of  the  Hansards  they  were  acting  in  con- 
tempt of  the  privilege  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, and  were  liable  to  be  committed  to 
Newgate.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  they  refused 
to  carry  out  the  orders  of  the  Court  of 
Queen’s  Bench,  that  court  would  certainly 
send  them  to  prison  for  the  refusal.  The 
reality  of  their  dilemma  was  in  fact  very 
soon  proved.  The  amount  of  the  damages 
was  paid  into  the  Sheriff’s  Court  in  order  tc 
avoid  the  scandal  of  a sale,  but  under  pro- 
test ; the  House  of  Commons  ordered  the 
sheriffs  to  refund  the  money  to  the  Han- 
sards ; the  Court  of  Queen’s  Bench  was 
moved  for  an  order  to  direct  the  sheriffs  to 
pay  it  over  to  Stockdaie.  The  sheriffs  were 
finally  committed  to  the  custody  of  the 
sergeant-at-arms  for  contempt  of  the  House 
of  Commons.  The  Court  of  Queen’s  Bench 
served  a writ  of  Jiabeas  corpus  on  the  ser- 
geant-at-arms calling  on  him  to  produce  the 
sheriffs  in  court.  The  House  directed  the 
sergeant-at-arms  to  inform  the  court  that  he 
held  the  sheriffs  in  custody  by  order  of  the 
Commons.  The  sergeant-at-arms  took  the 
sheriffs  to  the  Court  of  Queen’s  Bench  and 
made  his  statement  there ; his  explanation  was 
declared  reasonable  and  sufficient,  and  he 
marched  his  prisoners  back  again.  A great 
deal  of  this  ridiculous  sort  of  thing  went  on 
which  it  is  not  now  necessary  to  describe  in 
any  detail.  The  House  of  Commons,  what 
with  the  arrest  of  the  sheriffs  and  of  agents 
acting  on  behalf  off  the  pertinacious  Stock- 
dale,  had  on  their  hands  batches  of  prisoners 
with  whom  they  did  not  know  in  the  least 
what  to  do  ; the  whole  affair  created  immense 
popular  excitement  mingled  with  much  iron- 
ical laughter.  At  last  the  House  of  Com- 
mons had  recourse  to  legislation,  and  Lord 
John  Russell  brought  in  a bill  on  March  3, 
1840,  to  afford  summary  protection  to  all  per- 
sons employed  in  the  publication  of  Parlia- 
mentary papers.  The  preamble  of  the  meas- 
ure declared  that  “ whereas  it  is  essential  to 
the  due  and  effectual  discharge  of  the  func- 
tions and  duties  of  Parliament  that  no  ob- 
struction should  exist  to  the  publication  of 
the  reports,  papers,  votes,  or  proceedings  of 
either  House,  as  such  House  should  deem  fit,  ” 
it  is  to  be  lawful  “ for  any  person  or  persons 
against  whom  any  civil  or  criminal  proceed- 
ings shall  be  taken  on  account  of  such  pub- 
lication to  bring  before  the  court  a certificate 
under  the  hand  of  the  Lord  Chancellor  or 
the  Speaker,  stating  that  it  was  published  by 
the  authority  of  the  House,  and  the  proceed- 
ings should  at  once  be  stayed.”  This  bill 
was  run  quickly  through  both  Houses — not 
without  some  opposition  or  at  least  murmur 
in  the  Upper  House — and  it  became  law  on 
April  14.  It  settled  the  question  satisfacto- 
rily enough,  although  it  certainly  did  not  de- 
fine the  relative  rights  of  Parliament  and  the 
courts  of  law.  No  difficulty  of  the  same 
kind  has  since  arisen.  The  sheriffs  and  the 
other  prisoners  were  discharged  from  custody 
after  a while,  and  the  public  excitement  went 
out  in  quiet  laughter. 

The  question,  however,  was  a very  serious 
one  ; and  it  is  significant  that  public  opinion 
was  almost  entirely  on  the  side  of  the  law 
courts  and  the  sheriffs.  The  Ministry  must 
have  so  fallen  in  public  fat  or  as  to  bring 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


27 


the  House  of  Commons  into  disrepute  along 
with  them,  or  such  a sentiment  could  not 
have  prevailed  so  widely  out  of  doors.  The 
public  seemed  to  see  nothing  in  the  whole 
affair  but  a tyrannical  House  of  Commons 
wielding  illimitable  powers  against  a few 
humble  individuals,  some  of  whom,  the 
sheriffs  for  instance,  had  no  share  in  the  con- 
troversy except  that  imposed  on  them  by  of- 
ficial duty.  Accordingly  the  sheriffs  were  the 
heroes  of  the  hour,  and  were  toasted  and  ap- 
plauded all  over  the  country.  Assuredly  it 
was  an  awkward  position  for  the  House  of 
Commons  to  be  placed  in  when  it  had  to 
vindicate  its  privileges  by  committing  to  pris- 
on men  who  were  merely  doing  a duty 
which  the  law  courts  imposed  on  them.  It 
would  have  been  better  probably  if  the  Gov- 
ernment had  more  firmly  asserted  the  rights 
of  the  House  of  Commons  at  the  beginning, 
and  thus  allowed  the  public  to  see  the  real 
question  which  the  whole  controversy  in- 
volved. Nothing  can  be  more  clear  now 
than  the  paramount  importance  of  securing 
to  each  House  of  Parliament  an  absolute 
authority  and  freedom  of  publication.  No 
evil  that  could  possibly  arise  out  of  the  mis- 
use of  such  a power  could  be  anything  like 
that  certain  to  come  of  a state  of  things  which 
restricted  by  libel  laws  or  otherwise  the  right 
of  either  House  to  publish  whatever  it 
thought  proper  for  the  public  good.  Not  a 
single  measure  for  the  reform  of  any  great 
grievance,  from  the  abolition  of  slavery  to 
the  passing  of  the  Factory  Acts,  but  might 
have  been  obstructed,  and  perhaps  even  pre- 
vented, if  the  free  exposure  of  existing  evils 
were  denied  to  the  Houses  of  Parliament. 
In  this  country,  Parliament  only  works 
through  the  power  of  public  opinion.  A 
social  reform  is  not  carried  out  simply  by 
virtue  of  the  decision  of  a cabinet  that  some- 
thing ought  to  be  done.  The  attention  of 
the  Legislature  and  of  the  public  has  to  be 
called  to  the  grievance  again  and  again  by 
speeches,  resolutions,  debates,  and  divisions 
before  there  is  any  chance  of  carrying  a 
measure  on  the  subject.  When  public 
opinion  is  ripe,  and  is  strong  enough  to  help 
the  Government  through  with  a reform  in 
spite  of  prejudices  and  vested  interests,  then, 
and  not  till  then,  the  reform  is  carried.  But  it 
would  be  hardly  possible  to  bring  the  matter 
up  to  this  stage  of  growth  if  those  who  were 
interested  in  upholding  a grievance  had  the 
power  of  worrying  the  publishers  of  the  Par- 
liamentary reports  by  legal  proceedings  in 
the  earlier  stages  of  the  discussion.  Nor 
would  it  be  of  any  use  to  protect  merely  the 
freedom  of  debate  in  Parliament  itself.  It  is 
not  through  debate,  but  through  publication, 
that  the  public  opinion  of  the  country  is 
reached.  In  truth,  the  poorer  a man  is,  the 
weaker  and  the  humbler,  the  greater  need  is 
there  that  he  should  call  out  for  the  full  free- 
dom of  publication  to  be  vested  in  the  hands 
of  Parliament.  The  factory  child,  the  climb- 
ing boy,  the  apprentice  under  colonial  sys- 
tems of  modified  slavery,  the  seaman  sent  to 
sea  in  the  rotten  ship  ; the  woman  clad  in 
unwomanly  rags  who  sings  her  “ Song  of  a 
Shirt  ’ ; the  other  woman  almost  literally  ud.- 
sexed  in  form,  function,  and  soul,  who  in  her 
filthy  trowsersof  sacking  dragged  on  all  fours 
the  coal  trucks  in  the  mines— these  are  the 
tyrants  and  the  monopolists  for  whom  \7e  as- 
sert the  privilege  of  Parliamentary  publica- 
tion. 

The  operations  which  took  place  about  this 
time  in  Syria  belong  perhaps  rather  to  the 
general  history  of  the  Ottoman  Empire  than 
to  that  of  England.  But  they  had  so  impor- 
tant a bearing  on  the  relations  between  this 
country  and  France,  and  are  so  directly  con- 
nected with  subsequent  events  in  which  Eng- 
land bore  a leading  part,  that  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  pass  them  over  without  some  no- 
tice here.  Mohammed  Ali,  Pasha  of  Egypt, 
the  most  powerful  of  all  the  Sultan’s  feuda- 
tories, a man  of  iron  will  and  great  capacity 
both  for  war  and  administration,  had  made 


himself  for  a time  master  of  Syria.  By  the 
aid  of  the  warlike  qualities  of  his  adopted 
son,  Ibrahim  Pasha,  he  had  defeated  the 
armies  of  the  Porte  wherever  he  had  encoun- 
tered them.  Mohammed’s  victories  had  for 
the  time  compelled  the  Porte  to  allow  him  to 
remain  in  power  in  Syria  ; but  the  Sultan  had 
long  been  preparing  to  try  another  effort  for 
the  reduction  of  his  ambitious  vassal.  In 
1839  the  Sultan  again  declared  war  against 
Mohammed  Ali.  Ibrahim  Pasha  again  ob- 
tained an  overwhelming  victory  over  the 
Turkish  army.  The  energetic  Sultan  Mah- 
moud, a man  not  unworthy  to  cope  with 
such  an  adversary  as  Mohammed  Ali,  died 
suddenly  ; and  immediately  after  his  death 
the  Capitan  Pasha,  or  Lord  High  Admiral  of 
the  Ottoman  fleet,  went  over  to  the  Egyptians 
with  all  his  vessels  ; an  act  of  almost  unex- 
ampled treachery  even  in  the  history  of  the 
Ottoman  Empire.  It  was  evident  that  Tur- 
key was  not  able  to  hold  her  own  against  the 
formidable  Mohammed  and  his  successful 
son  ; and  the  policy  of  the  Western  Powers 
of  Europe,  and  of  England  especially,  had 
long  been  to  maintain  the  Ottoman  Empire  as 
a necessary  part  of  the  common  State  sys- 
tem. The  policy  of  Russia  was  to  keep  up 
that  empire  as  long  as  it  suited  her  own  pur- 
poses ; to  take  care  that  no  other  Power  got 
anything  out  of  Turkey  ; and  to  prepare  the 
way  for  such  a partition  of  the  spoils  of  Tur- 
key as  would  satisfy  Russian  interests. 
Russia  therefore  was  to  be  found  now  de- 
fending Turkey,  and  now  assailing  her.  The 
course  taken  by  Russia  was  seemingly  in- 
consistent ; but  it  was  only  inconsistent  as 
the  course  of  a sailing  ship  may  be  which 
now  tacks  to  this  side  and  now  to  that,  but 
has  a clear  object  in  view  and  a port  to  reach 
all  the  while.  England  was  then  and  for  a 
long  time  after  steadily  bent  on  preserving 
the  Turkish  Empire,  and  in  a great  measure 
as  a rampart  against  the  schemes  and  ambi- 
tions imputed  to  Russia  herself.  France  was 
less  firmly  set  on  the  maintenance  of  Turkey  ; 
and  France,  moreover,  had  got  it  into  her 
mind  that  England  had  designs  of  her  own 
on  Egypt.  Austria  was  disposed  to  go  gen- 
erally with  England  ; Prussia  was  little  more 
than  a nominal  sharer  in  the  alliance  that 
was  now  tinkered  up.  It  is  evident  that 
such  an  alliance  could  not  be  very  harmoni- 
ous or  direct  in  its  action.  It  was,  however, 
effective  enough  to  prove  too  strong  for  the 
Pasha  of  Egypt.  A fleet  made  up  of  English, 
Austrian,  and  Turkish  vessels  bombarded 
Acre ; an  allied  army  drove  the  Egyptians 
from  several  of  their  strongholds.  Ibrahim 
Pasha  with  all  his  courage  and  genius  was 
not  equal  to  the  odds  against  which  he  now 
saw  himself  forced  to  contend.  He  had  to 
succumb.  No  one  could  doubt  that  he  and 
his  father  were  incomparably  better  able  to 
ive  good  government  and  the  chances  of 
evelopment  to  Syria  than  the  Porte  had  ever 
been.  But  in  this  instance,  as  in  others,  the 
odious  principle  was  upheld  by  England  and 
her  actual  allies,  that  the  Turkish  Empire 
must  be  maintained  at  no  matter  what  cost 
of  suffering  and  degradation  to  its  subject 
populations.  Mohammed  Ali  was  deprived 
of  all  his  Asiatic  possessions  ; but  was  se- 
cured in  his  government  of  Egypt.  A con- 
vention signed  at  London  on  July  15,  1840, 
arranged  for  the  imposition  of  those  terms  on 
Mohammed  Ali. 

The  convention  was  signed  by  the  repre- 
sentatives of  Great  Britain,  Austria,  Prussia, 
and  Russia,  on  the  one  part,  and  of  the  Otto- 
man Porte  on  the  other.  The  name  of 
France  was  not  found  there.  France  had 
drawn  back  from  the  alliance,  and  for  some 
time  seemed  as  if  she  were  likely  to  take 
arms  against  it.  M.  Thiers  was  then  her  Prime 
Minister  : he  was  a man  of  quick  fancy,  rest- 
less and  ambitious  temperament,  and  what 
we  cannot  help  calling  a vulgar  spirit  of  na- 
tional self-sufficiency — we  are  speaking  now 
of  the  Thiers  of  1840,  not  of  the  wise  and  capa- 
ble statesman,  tempered  and  tried  by  the  fire 


of  adversity,  who  reorganized  France  out  of 
the  ruin  and  welter  of  1870.  Thiers  persuaded 
himself  and  the  great  majority  of  his  coun- 
trymen that  England  was  bent  upon  driving 
Mohammed  Ali  out  of  Egypt  as  well  as  out 
of  Syria,  and  that  her  object  was  to  obtain 
possession  of  Egypt  for  herself.  For  some 
months  it  seemed  as  if  war  were  inevitable 
between  England  and  France,  although  there 
was  not  in  reality  the  slightest  reason  why 
the  two  States  should  quarrel.  France  was 
just  as  far  away  from  any  thought  of  a really 
disinterested  foreign  policy  "as  England. 
England,  on  the  other  hand,  had  not  the  re- 
motest idea  of  becoming  the  possessor  of 
Egypt.  Fortunately  Louis  Philippe  and  M. 
Guizot  were  both  strongly  in  favor  of  peace  ; 
M.  Thiers  resigned  ; and  M.  Guizot  became 
Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs,  and  virtually 
head  of  the  Government.  Thiers  defended 
his  policy  in  the  French  Chamber  in  a 
scream  of  passionate  and  almost  hysterical 
declamation.  Again  and  again  he  declared 
that  his  mind  had  been  made  up  to  go  to  war 
if  England  did  not  at  once  give  way  and 
modify  the  terms  of  the  convention  of  July. 
It  cannot  be  doubted  that  Thiers  carried  with 
him  much  of  the  excited  public  feeling  of 
France.  But  the  King  and  M.  Guizot  were 
happily  supported  by  the  majority  in  and  out 
of  the  Chambers  ; and  on  July  13,  1841,  the 
Treaty  of  London  was  signed,  which  provided 
for  the  settlement  of  the  affairs  of  Egypt  on 
the  basis  of  the  arrangement  already  made, 
and  which  contained  moreover  the  stipula- 
tion, to  be  referred  to  more  than  once  here- 
after, by  which  the  Sultan  declared  himself 
firmly  resolved  to  maintain  the  ancient  prin- 
ciple of  his  empire — that  no  foreign  ship  of 
war  was  to  be  admitted  into  the  Dardanelles 
and  the  Bosphorus,  with  the  exception  of 
light  vessels  for  which  a firman  was  granted. 

The  public  of  this  country  had  taken  but. 
little  interest  in  the  controversy  about  Egypt, 
at  least  until  it  seemed  likely  to  involve  Eng- 
land in  a war  with  France.  Some  of  the  ep- 
isodes of  the  war  were  indeed  looked  upon 
with  a certain  satisfaction  by  people  here  at 
home.  The  bravery  of  Charles  Napier,  the 
hot-headed  self-conceited  commodore,  was 
enthusiastically  extolled,  and  his  feats  of  suc- 
cessful audacity  were  glorified  as  though 
they  had  shown  the  genius  of  a Nelson,  or 
the  clever  resource  of  a Cochrane.  Not 
many  of  Napier’s  admirers  cared  a rush 
about  the  merits  of  the  quarrel  between  the 
Porte  and  the  Pasha.  Most  of  them  would 
have  been  just  as  well  pleased  if  Napier  had 
been  fighting  for  the  Pasha  and  against  the 
Porte  ; not  a few  were  utterly  ignorant  as  to 
whether  he  was  fighting  for  Porte  or  for 
Pasha.  Those  who  claimed  to  be  more  en- 
lightened had  a sort  of  general  idea  that  it 
was  in  some  way  essential  to  the  safety  and 
glory  of  England  that  whenever  Turkey  was 
in  trouble  we  should  at  once  become  her 
champions,  tame  her  rebels,  and  conquer  her 
enemies.  Unfounded  as  were  the  suspicions 
of  Frenchmen  about  our  designs  upon 
Egypt,  they  can  hardly  be  called  very  unrea- 
sonable. Even  a very  cool  and  impartial 
Frenchman  might  be  led  to  the  conclusion 
that  free  England  would  not  without  some 
direct  purpose  of  her  own  have  pledged  her- 
self to  the  cause  of  a base  and  a decaying 
despotism. 

Steadily  meanwhile  did  the  Ministry  go 
from  bad  to  worse.  They  had  greatly  dam- 
aged their  character  by  the  manner  in  which 
they  had  again  and  again  put  up  with  defeat 
and  consented  to  resume  or  retain  office  on 
any  excuse  or  pretext.  They  were  remarka- 
bly bad  administrators  ; their  finances  were 
wretchedly  managed.  In  later  times  we 
have  come  to  regard  the  Tories  as  especially 
weak  in  the  matter  of  finance.  A well-man- 
aged revenue  and  a comfortable  surplus  are 
generally  looked  upon  as  in  some  way  or 
ouier  the  monopoly  of  a Liberal  administra- 
tion ; while  lavish  expenditure,  deficit  and 
increased  taxation  are  counted  among  the 


28 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


necessary  accompaniments  of  a Tory  Gov- 
ernment. So  nearly  does  public  opinion  on 
both  sides  go  to  accepting  these  conditions, 
that  there  are  many  Tories  who  take  it 
rather  as  a matter  of  pride  that  their  leaders 
are  not  mean  economists,  and  who  regard  a 
free-handed  expenditure  of  the  national  rev- 
enue as  something  peculiarly  gentlemanlike 
and  in  keeping  with  the  honorable  traditions 
of  a great  country  party.  But  this  was  not 
the  idea  which  prevailed  in  the  days  of  the 
Melbourne  Ministry.  Then  the  universal 
conviction  was  that  the  Whigs  were  incapa- 
ble of  managing  the  finances.  The  budget 
of  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  Mr.  Bar- 
ing, showed  a deficiency  of  nearly  two  mil- 
lions. This  deficiency  he  proposed  to  meet 
in  part  by  alteration  in  the  sugar  duties  ; but 
the  House  of  Commons,  after  a long  debate, 
rejected  his  proposals  by  a majority  of  thirty- 
six.  It  was  then  expected,  of  course,  that 
ministers  would  resign  ; blit  they  were  not 
yet  willing  to  accept  the  consequences  of  de- 
feat. They  thought  they  had  another  stone 
in  their  sling.  Lord  John  Russell  had  pre- 
viously given  notice  of  his  intention  to  move 
for  a committee  of  the  whole  House  to  con- 
sider the  state  cf  legislation  with  regard  to 
the  trade  in  corn  ; and  he  now  brought  for- 
ward an  announcement  of  his  plan,  which 
was  to  propose  a fixed  duty  of  eight  shillings 
per  quarter  on  wheat,  and  proportionately 
diminished  rates  on  rye,  barley,  and  oats. 
Except  for  its  effect  on  the  fortunes  of  the 
Melbourne  Ministry  there  is  not  the  slightest 
importance  to  be  attached  to  this  proposal. 
It  was  an  experiment  in  the  direction  of  the 
Free  Traders,  who  were  just  beginning  to  be 
powerful  ; although  they  were  not  nearly 
strong  enough  yet  to  dictate  the  policy  of  a 
government.  We  shall  have  to  tell  the  story 
of  Free  Trade  hereafter  ; this  present  inci- 
dent is  no  part  of  the  history  of  a great  move- 
ment ; it  is  merely  a small  party  dodge.  It 
deceived  no  one.  Lord  Melbourne  had  al- 
ways spoken  with  the  uttermost  contempt  of 
the  Free  Trade  agitation.  With  characteris- 
tic oaths,  he  had  declared  that  of  all  the  mad 
things  he  had  ever  heard  suggested.  Free 
Trade  was  the  maddest.  Lord  John  Russell 
himself,  although  far  more  enlightened  than 
the  Prime  Minister,  had  often  condemned 
and  sneered  at  the  demand  for  Free  Trade. 
The  conversion  of  the  ministers  into  the  offi- 
cial advocates  of  a moderate  fixed  duty  was 
all  too  sudden  for  tlie«  conscience,  for  the 
very  stomach  of  the  nation.  Public  opinion 
would  not  endure  it.  Nothing  but  harm 
came  to  the  Whigs  from  the  attempt.  In- 
stead of  any  new  adherents  or  fresh  sympa- 
thy being  won  for  them  by  their  proposal, 
people  only  asked,  “ Will  nothing  then  turn 
them  out  of  office  ? Will  they  never  have 
done  with  trying  new  tricks  to  keep  in  place  ?” 

Sir  Robert  Peel  took,  in  homely  phrase,  the 
bull  by  the  horns.  He  proposed  a direct  vote 
of  want  of  confidence — a resolution  declaring 
that  ministers  did  not  possess  the  confidence 
of  the  House  sufficiently  to  enable  them  to 
carry  through  the  measures  which  they 
deemed  of  essential  importance  to  the  public 
welfare,  and  that  their  continuance  in  office 
under  such  circumstances  was  at  variance 
with  the  spirit  of  the  Constitution.  On 
June  4,  1841,  the  division  was  taken  ; and 
the  vote  of  no-confidence  was  carried  by  a 
majority  of  one.  Even  the  Whigs  could 
not  stand  this.  Lord  Melbourne  at  last  be- 
gan to  think  that  things  were  looking  serious. 
Parliament  was  dissolved,  and  the.  result  of 
the  general  election  was  that  the  Tories  were 
found  to  have  a majority  even  greater  than 
they  themselves  had  anticipated.  The  mo- 
ment the  new  Parliament  was  assembled 
amendments  to  the  address  were  carried  in 
both  Houses  in  a sense  hostile  to  the  Govern- 
ment. Lord  Melbourne  and  his  colleagues 
had  to  resign,  and  Sir  Robert  Peel  was  en- 
trusted with  the  task  of  forming  an  adminis- 
tration. 

We  have  not  much  more  to  do  with  Lord 


Melbourne  in  this  history.  He  merely  drops 
out  of  it.  Between  his  expulsion  from  office 
and  his  death,  which  took  place  in  1848,  he 
did  little  or  nothing  to  call  for  the  notice  of 
any  one.  It  was  said  at  one  time  that  his 
closing  years  were  lonesome  and  melan- 
choly ; but  this  has  lately  been  denied,  and 
indeed  it  is  not  likely  that  one  who  had  such 
a genial  temper  and  so  many  friends  could 
have  been  left  to  the  dreariness  of  a not  self- 
sufficing  solitude  and  to  the  bitterness  of  neg- 
lect. He  was  a generous  and  kindly  man  ; 
his  personal  character,  although  often  as- 
sailed, was  free  of  any  serious  reproach  ; he 
was  a failure  in  office,  not  so  much  from 
want  of  ability,  as  because  he  was  a politician 
without  convictions. 

The  Peel  Ministry  came  into  power  with 
great  hopes.  It  had  Lord  Lyndhurst  for 
Lord  Chancellor ; Sir  James  Graham  for 
Home  Secretary  ; Lord  Aberdeen  at  the  For- 
eign Office  ; Lord  Stanley  was  Colonial  Sec- 
retary. The  most  remarkable  man  not  in  the 
Cabinet,  soon  to  be  one  of  the  foremost 
statesmen  in  the  country,  was  Mr.  W.  E. 
Gladstone.  It  is  a fact  of  some  significance 
in  the  history  of  the  Peel  administration, 
that  the  elections  which  brought  the  new 
Ministry  into  power  brought  Mr.  Cobden  for 
the  first  time  into  the  House  of  Commons. 

CHAPTER  X. 

MOVEMENTS  IN  THE  CHUECHES. 

While  Lord  Melbourne  and  his  Whig  col- 
leagues, still  in  office,  were  fribbling  away 
their  popularity  on  the  pleasant  assumption 
that  nobody  was  particularly  in  earnest 
about  anything,  the  Vice-Chancellor  and 
heads  of  houses  held  a meeting  at  Oxford, 
and  passed  a censure  on  the  celebrated  “No. 
90,”  of  “Tracts  for  the  Times.”  The 
movement,  of  which  some  important  tenden- 
cies were  formally  censured  in  the  condem- 
nation of  this  tract,  was  one  of  the  most  mo- 
mentous that  had  stirred  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land since  the  Reformation.  The  author  of 
the  tract  was  Dr.  John  Henry  Newman,  and 
the  principal  ground  for  its  censure  by  voices 
claiming  authority  was  the  principle  it  seem- 
ed to  put  forward — that  a man  might  honest- 
ly subscribe  all  the  articles  and  formularies 
of  the  English  Church,  while  yet  holding 
many  of  the  doctrines  of  the  Church  of 
Rome,  against  which  those  articles  were  re- 
garded as  a necessary  protest.  The  great 
movement  which  was  thus  brought  into  sud- 
den question  and  publicity  was  in  itself  an 
offspring  of  the  immense  stirring  of  thought 
which  the  French  Revolution  called  up, 
and  which  had  its  softened  echo  in  the  Eng- 
lish Reform  Bill.  The  centre  of  the  relig- 
ious movement  was  to  be  found  in  the  Univer- 
sity of  Oxford.  When  it  is  in  the  right,  and 
when  it  is  in  the  wrong,  Oxford  has  always 
had  more  of  the  sentimental  and  of  the  poetic 
in  its  cast  of  thought  than  its  rival  or  col- 
league of  Cambridge.  There  were  two  influ- 
ences then  in  operation  over  England,  both 
of  which  alike  aroused  the  alarm  and  the 
hostility  of  certain  gifted  and  enthusiastic 
young  Oxford  men.  One  was  the  tendency 
to  Rationalism  drawn  from  the  German  theo- 
logians ; the  other  was  the  manner  in  which 
the  connection  of  the  Church  with  the  State 
in  England  was  beginning  to  operate  to  the 
disadvantage  of  the  Church  as  a sacred  in- 
stitution and  teacher.  The  Reform  party 
everywhere  were  assailing  the  rights  and  prop- 
erty of  the  Church.  In  Ireland  especially 
experiments  were  made  which  every  practi- 
cal man  will  now  regard  with  approval, 
whether  he  be  churchman  or  not,  but  which 
seemed  to  the  devoted  ecclesiast  of  Oxford 
to  be  fraught  with  danger  to  the  freedom 
and  influence  of  the  Church.  Out  of  the 
contemplation  of  these  dangers  sprang  the 
desire  to  revive  the  authority  of  the  Church  ; 
to  quicken  her  with  a new  vitality  ; to  give 
her  once  again  that  place  as  guide  and  in- 
spirer  of  the  national  life  which  her  ardent 


votaries  believed  to  be  hers  by  right,  and  to 
have  been  forfeited  only  by  the  carelessness 
of  her  authorities  and  their  failure  to  fulfil 
the  duties  of  her  heaven-assigned  mission. 

No  movement  could  well  have  had  a purer 
source.  None  could  have  had  more  disinter- 
ested and  high-minded  promoters.  It  was 
borne  in  upon  some  earnest  unresting  souls, 
like  that  of  the  sweet  and  saintly  Keble — 
souls  “ without  haste  and  without  rest,”  like 
Goethe’s  star — that  the  Church  of  England 
had  higher  duties  and  nobler  claims  than  the 
business  of  preaching  harmless  sermons  and 
the  power  of  enriching  bishops.  Keble  could 
not  bear  to  think  of  the  Church  taking  pleas- 
ure since  all  is  well.  He  urged  on  some  of 
the  more  vigorous  and  thoughtful  minds 
around  him,  or  rather  he  suggested  it  by  his 
influence  and  his  example,  that  they  should 
reclaim  for  the  Church  the  place  which 
ought  to  be  hers,  as  the  true  successor  of  the 
Apostles.  He  claimed  for  her  that  she,  and 
she  alone,  was  the  real  Catholic  Church,  and 
that  Rome  had  wandered  away  from  the 
right  path,  and  foregone  the  glorious  mission 
which  she  might  have  maintained.  Among 
those  who  shared  the  spirit  and  purpose  of 
Keble  were  Richard  Hurrell  Froude,  the  his- 
torian’s elder  brother,  who  gave  rich  promise 
of  a splendid  career,  but  who  died  while  still 
in  comparative  youth  ; Dr.  Pusey,  afterwards 
leader  of  the  school  of  ecclesiasticism  which 
bears  his  name  ; and,  most  eminent  of  all,  Dr. 
Newman.  Keble  had  taken  part  in  the  pub- 
lication of  a series  of  treatises  called  ‘ ‘ Tracts 
for  the  Times,”  the  object  of  which  was  to 
vindicate  the  real  mission,  as  the  writers  be- 
lieved, of  the  Church  of  England.  This 
was  the  Tractarian  movement  which  had 
such  various  and  memorable  results.  New- 
man first  started  the  project  of  the  tracts, 
and  wrote  the  most  remarkable  of  them. 
He  had  up  to  this  time  been  distinguished  as 
one  of  the  most  unsparing  enemies  of  Rome. 
At  the  same  time  he  was,  as  he  has  himself 
said,  “fierce”  against  the  “instruments” 
and  the  “manifestations”  of  “the  Liberal 
cause.”  While  he  was  at  Algiers  once  a 
French  vessel  put  in  there,  flying  the  tri- 
color ; Newman  would  not  even  look  at  her. 
“ On  my  return,  though  forced  to  stop 
twenty-four  hours  at  Paris,  I kept  indoors 
the  whole  time,  and  all  that  I saw  of  that 
beautiful  city  was  what  I saw  from  the 
diligence.”  He  had  never  had  any  man- 
ner of  association  with  Roman  Catholics  ; 
had  in  fact  known  singularly  little  of 
them.  As  Newman  studied  and  wrote  con- 
cerning the  best  way  to  restore  the  Church 
of  England  to  her  proper  place  in  the  na- 
tional life,  he  kept  the  thought  before  him 
‘ ‘ that  there  was  something  greater  than  the 
Established  Church,  and  that  that  was  the 
Church  Catholic  and  Apostolic,  set  up  from 
the  beginning,  of  which  she  was  but  the  local 
presence  and  the  organ.  She  was  nothing 
unless  she  was  this.  She  must  be  dealt  with 
strongly  or  she  would  be  lost.  There  was 
need  of  a second  Reformation.”  At  this 
time  the  idea  of  leaving  the  Church  never,  Dr. 
Newman  himself  assures  us,  had  crossed  his 
imagination.  He  felt  alarmed  for  the 
Church  between  German  Rationalism  and 
man-of-the-world  liberalism.  His  fear  was 
that  the  Church  would  sink  to  be  the  servile 
instrument  of  a State,  and  a Liberal  State. 

The  abilities  of  Dr.  Newman  were  hardly 
surpassed  by  any  contemporary  in  any  de- 
partment of  thought.  His  position  and  in- 
fluence in  Oxford  were  almost  unique. 
There  was  in  his  intellectual  temperament  a 
curious  combination  of  the  mystic  and  the 
logical.  He  was  at  once  a poetic  dreamer 
and  a sophist — in  the  true  and  not  the  cor- 
rupt and  ungenerous  sense  of  the  latter  word. 
It  had  often  been  said  of  him  and  of  another 
great  Englishman,  that  a change  in  their  ear- 
ly conditions  and  training  would  easily  have 
made  of  Newman  a Stuart  Mill,  and  of  Mill 
a Newman.  England  in  our  time  has  hardly 
had  a greater  master  of  argument  and  of 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


29 


English  prose  than  Newman.  lie  is  one!  of 
the  keenest  of  dialecticians  ; and  like  Mill 
has  the  rare  art  that  dissolves  all  the  difficul- 
ties of  the  most  abstruse  or  perplexed  sub- 
ject, and  shows  it  bare  and  clear  even  to  the 
least  subtle  of  readers.  His  words  dispel 
mists  ; and  whether  they  who  listen  agree  or 
not,  they  cannot  fail  to  understand.  A pen- 
etrating poignant  satirical  humor  is  found  in 
most  of  his  writings  ; an  irony  sometimes 
piercing  suddenly  through  it  like  a darting 
pain.  On  the  other  hand,  a generous  vein  of 
poetry  and  of  pathos  informs  his  style  ; and 
there  are  many  passages  of  his  works  in 
which  he  rises  to  the  height  of  a genuine  and 
noble  eloquence. 

In  all  the  arts  that  make  a great  preacher 
or  orator,  Newman  was  strikingly  deficient. 
His  manner  was  constrained,  ungraceful,  and 
even  awkward  ; his  voice  was  thin  and  weak. 
His  bearing  was  not  at  first  impressive  in  any 
way.  A gaunt  emaciated  figure,  a sharp 
and  eagle  face,  a cold  meditative  eye  rather 
repelled  than  attracted  those  who  saw  him 
for  the  first  time.  Singularly  devoid  of 
affectation,  Newman  did  not  always  conceal 
his  intellectual  scorn  of  men  who  made  loud 
pretence  with  inferior  gifts,  and  the  men 
must  have  been  few  indeed  whose  gifts  were 
not  inferior  to  his.  Newman  had  no  scorn 
for  intellectual  inferiority  in  itself  ; he  de- 
spised it  only  when  it  gave  itself  airs.  His  in- 
fluence while  he  was  the  vicar  of  St.  Mary’s 
at  Oxford  was  profound.  As  Mr.  Glad- 
stone said  of  him  in  a recent  speech,  “ without 
ostentation  or  effort,  but  by  simple  excellence, 
he  was  continually  drawing  undergraduates 
more  and  more  around  him.”  Air.  Glad- 
stone in  the  same  speech  gave  a description 
of  Dr.  Newman’s  pulpit  style  which  is  inter- 
esting : “ Dr.  Newman’s  manner  in  the  pul- 
pit was  one  which,  if  you  considered  it  in  its 
separate  parts,  would  lead  you  to  arrive  at 
very  unsatisfactory  conclusions.  There  was 
not  very  much  change  in  the  inflection  of  the 
voice  ; action  there  was  none  ; his  sermons 
were  read  and  his  eyes  were  always  on  his 
book  ; and  all  that,  you  will  say,  is  against 
efficiency  in  preaching.  Y es  ; but  you  take 
the  man  as  a whole,  and  there  was  a stamp 
and  a seal  upon  him,  there  was  a solemn 
music  and  sweetness  in  his  tone,  there  was  a 
completeness  in  the  figure,  taken  together 
with  the  tone  and  with  the  manner,  which 
made  even  his  delivery,  such  as  I have  de- 
scribed it,  and  though  exclusively  wdth  writ- 
ten sermons,  singularly  attractive.”  The 
stamp  and  seal  were  indeed  those  which  are 
impressed  by  genius,  piety,  and  earnestness. 
No  opponent  ever  spoke  of  Newman  but 
with  admiration  for  his  intellect  and  respect 
for  his  character.  Dr.  Newman  had  a 
younger  brother,  Francis  W.  Newman,  who 
also  possessed  remarkable  ability  and  ear- 
nestness. He  too  was  distinguished  at  Ox- 
ford, and  seemed  to  have  a great  career  there 
before  him.  But  he  was  drawn  one  way  by 
the  wave  of  thought  before  his  more  famous 
brother  had  been  drawTn  the  other  way.  In 
1830,  the  younger  Newman  found  himself 
prevented  by  religious  scruples  from  sub- 
scribing the  Thirty-nine  Articles  for  his  mas- 
ter’s degree  He  left  the  university,  and 
wandered  for  years  in  the  East,  endeavoring, 
not  very  successfully  perhaps,  to  teach  Chris- 
tianity on  its  broadest  base  to  Mahometans  ; 
and  then  he  came  back  to  England  to  take 
bis  place  among  the  leaders  of  a certain  school 
of  free  thought.  Fate  had  dealt  with  those 
brothers  as  with  the  two  friends  in  Richter’s 
story  : it  “ seized  their  bleeding  hearts,  and 
flung  them  different  ways.” 

When  Dr  Newman  wrote  the  famous 
Tract  “ No.  90,”  for  which  he  was  censured, 
he  bowed  to  the  authority  of  his  bishop  if  not 
to  that  of  the  heads  of  houses  ; and  he  dis- 
continued the  publication  of  such  treatises. 
But  he  did  not  admit  any  change  of  opin- 
ion ; and  indeed  soon  after  he  edited  a publi- 
cation called  “ The  British  Critic,”  in  which 
many  of  the  principles  held  to  be  exclusively 


those  of  the  Church  of  Rome  were  enthusias- 1 
tically  claimed  for  the  English  Church.  Yet 
a little  and  the  gradual  working  of  Newman’s 
mind  became  evident  to  all  the  world.  The 
brightest  and  most  penetrating  intellect  in 
the  Church  of  England  was  withdrawn  from 
her  service,  and  Newman  went  over  to  the 
Church  of  Rome.  His  secession  was  de- 
scribed by  Mr.  Disraeli  a quarter  of  a cen- 
tury afterwards  as  having  “ dealt  a blow  to 
the  Church  of  England  under  which  she  still 
reels.”  To  this  result  had  the  inquiry  con- 
ducted him  which  had  led  his  friend  Dr. 
Pusey  merely  to  endeavor  to  incorporate  some 
of  the  mysticism  and  the  symbols  of  Rome 
with  the  ritual  of  the  English  Protestant 
Church  ; which  had  brought  Keble  only  to 
seek  a more  liberal  and  truly  Christian  tem- 
per for  the  faith  of  the  Protestant ; and 
which  had  sent  Francis  Newman  into  Radi- 
calism and  Rationalism. 

In  truth  it  is  not  difficult  now  to  under- 
stand how  the  elder  Newman’s  mind  became 
drawn  towards,  the  ancient  Church  which 
won  him  at  last.  We  can  see  from  his  own 
candid  account  of  his  early  sentiments  how 
profoundly  mystical  was  his  intellectual  na- 
ture, and  how,  long  before  he  was  conscious 
of  any  such  tendency,  he  was  drawn  towards 
the  very  symbolisms  of  the  Catholic  Church. 
Pascal’s  early  and  unexplained  mastery  of 
mathematical  problems  which  no  one  had 
taught  him  is  not  more  suggestive  in  its  way 
than  those  early  drawings  of  Catholic  sym- 
bols and  devices  which,  done  in  his  child- 
hood, Newman  says  surprised  and  were  in- 
explicable to  him  when  he  came  on  them  in 
years  long  after.  No  place  could  be  better 
fitted  to  encourage  and  develop  this  tendency 
to  mysticism  in  a thoughtful  mind  than  Ox- 
ford, with  all  its  noble  memories  of  scholars 
and  of  priests,  with  its  picturesque  and  poetic 
surroundings,  and  its  never-fading  medieval- 
ism. Newman  lived  in  the  past.  His  spirit  was 
with  medieval  England.  His  thoughts  were  of 
a time  when  one  Church  took  charge  of  the 
souls  of  a whole  united  devout  people,  and 
stood  as  the  guide  and  authority  appointed 
for  them  by  Heaven.  He  thought  of  such  a 
time  until  first  he  believed  in  it  as  a thing  of 
the  past,  and  next  came  to  have  faith  in  the 
possibility  of  its  restoration  as  a thing  of  the 
present  and  the  future.  When  once  he  had 
come  to  this  point  the  rest  followed,  “ as  by 
lot  God  wot.  ’ ’ No  creature  could  for  a mo- 
ment suppose  that  that  ideal  Church  was  to 
be  found  in  the  English  Establishment,  sub- 
mitted as  it  was  to  State-made  doctrine,  and 
to  the  decision  of  the  Lord  Chancellor,  who 
might  be  an  infidel  or  a free-liver.  The 
question  which  Cardinal  Manning  tells  us  he 
asked  himself  years  after,  at  the  time  of  the 
Gorham  case,  must  often  have  presented  it- 
self to  the  mind  of  Newman.  Suppose  all 
the  Bishops  of  the  Church  of  England 
should  decide  unanimously  on  any  question 
of  doctrine,  would  any  one  receive  the  decis- 
ion as  infallible  ? Of  course  not.  Such  is 
not  the  genius  or  the  principle  of  the  English 
Church.  The  Church  of  England  has  no 
pretension  to  be  considered  the  infallible 
guide  of  the  people  in  matters  even  of  doc- 
trine. Were  she  seriously  to  put  forward 
any  such  pretension,  it  would  be  rejected 
with  contempt  by  the  common  mind  of  the 
nation.  We  are  not  discussing  questions  of 
dogma,  or  the  rival  claims  of  churches  here  ; 
we  are  merely  pointing  out  that  to  a man 
with  Newman’s  idea  of  a church,  the  Church 
of  England  could  not  long  afford  a home. 
That  very  logical  tendency,  which  in  the 
mind  of  Newman,  as  of  that  of  Pascal,  con- 
tended for  supremacy  with  the  tendency  to 
devotion  and  mysticism,  only  impelled  him 
more  rigorously  on  his  way.  He  could  not 
put  up  with  compromises,  and  convince  him- 
self that  he  ought  to  be  convinced.  He 
dragged  every  compromise  and  every  doc- 
trine into  the  light,  and  insisted  on  knowing 
exactly  what  it  amounted  to  and  what  it , 
meant  to  say.  The  doctrines  and  compro-  | 


| mises  of  his  own  Church  did  not  satisfy  him. 
There  are  minds  which  in  this  condition  of 
bewilderment  might  have  been  content  to 
find  “ no  footing  so  solid  as  doubt.”  New- 
man had  not  a mind  of  that  class.  He 
could  not  believe  in  a world  without  a 
church,  or  a church  without  what  he  held  to 
be  inspiration  ; and  accordingly  he  threw  his 
whole  soul,  energy,  genius,  and  fame  into  the 
cause  of  the  Church  of  Rome. 

This,  however,  did  not  come  all  at  once. 
We  are  anticipating  by  a few  years  the  pass- 
ing over  of  Dr.  Newman,  Cardinal  Man- 
ning and  others  to  the  ancient  Church.  It  is 
clear  that  Newman  was  not  himself  con- 
scious for  a long  time  of  the  manner  in  which 
he  was  being  drawn,  surely  although  not 
quickly,  in  the  direction  of  Rome.  He  used 
to  be  accused  at  one  time  of  having  remain- 
ed a conscious  Roman  Catholic  in  "the  Eng- 
lish Church,  laboring  to  make  new  converts. 
Apart  from  his  own  calm  assurances,  and 
from  the  singularly  pure  and  candid  nature 
of  the  man,  there  are  reasons  enough  to  ren- 
der such  a charge  absurd.  Indeed,  that  sim- 
ple and  childish  conception  of  human  nature 
which  assumes  that  a man  must  always  see 
the  logical  consequences  of  certain  admis- 
sions or  inquiries  beforehand,  because  all 
men  can  see  them  afterwards,  is  rather  con- 
fusing and  out  of  place  when  we  are  consid- 
ering such  a crisis  of  thought  and  feeling  as 
that  which  took  place  in  Oxford,  and  such 
men  as  those  who  were  principally  concerned 
in  it.  For  the  present  it  is  enough  to  say 
that  the  object  of  that  movement  was  to  raise 
the  Church  of  England  from  apathy,  from 
dull,  easy-going  acquiescence,  from  the 
perfunctory  discharge  of  formal  duties,  and 
to  quicken  her  again  with  the  spirit  of  a 
priesthood,  to  arouse  her  to  the  living  work, 
spiritual  and  physical,  of  an  ecclesiastical 
sovereignty.  The  impulse  overshot  itself  in 
some  cases  and  was  misdirected  in  others. 
It  proved  a failure  on  the  whole  as  to  its  def- 
inite aims  ; and  it  sometimes  left  behind  it 
only  the  ashes  of  a barren  symbolism.  But 
in  its  source  it  was  generous,  beneficent,  and 
noble,  and  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  there  has 
not  been  throughout  the  Church  of  England 
on  the  whole  a higher  spirit  at  work  since 
the  famous  Oxford  movement  began. 

Still  greater  was  the  practical  importance, 
at  least  in  defined  results,  of  the  movement 
which  went  on  in  Scotland  about  the  same 
time.  A fortnight  before  the  decision  of  the 
heads  of  houses  at  Oxford  on  Dr.  Newman’s 
tract,  Lord  Aberdeen  announced  in  the  House 
of  Lords  that  he  did  not  see  his  way  to  do 
anything  in  particular  with  regard  to  the  dis- 
sensions in  the  Church  of  Scotland.  He  had 
tried  a measure,  he  said,  the  year  before,  and 
half  the  Church  of  Scotland  liked  it,  and  the 
other  half  denounced  it,  and  the  Government 
opposed  it  ; and  he,  therefore,  had  nothing 
further  to  suggest  in  the  matter.  The  per- 
plexity of  Lord  Aberdeen  only  faintly  typi- 
fied the  perplexity  of  the  Ministry.  Lord 
Melbourne  was  about  the  last  man  in  the 
world  likely  to  have  any  sympathy  with  the 
spirit  which  animated  the  Scottish  Reformers, 
or  any  notion  of  how  to  get  out  of  the  diffi- 
culty'which  the  whole  question  presented. 
Differing  as  they  did  in  so  many  other  points, 
there  was  one  central  resemblance  between  the 
movement  in  the  Kirk  of  Scotland  and  that 
which  was  going  on  in  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land. In  both  cases  alike  the  effort  of  the 
reforming  party  was  to  emancipate  the 
Church  from  the  control  of  the  State  in  mat- 
ters involving  religious  doctrine  and  duty. 
In  Scotland  was  soon  to  be  presented  the 
spectacle  of  a great  secession  from  an  Estab- 
lished Church,  not  because  the  seceders  ob- 
jected to  the  principle  of  a Church,  but  be- 
cause they  held  that  the  Establishment  was 
not  faithful  enough  to  its  mission  as  a Church. 
One  of  the  seceders  pithily  explained  the  po- 
sition of  the  controversy  when  he  said  that 
I he  and  his  fellows  were  leaving  the  Kirk 
| of  Scotland,  not  because  she  was  too 


30 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


“churchy,”  but  because  she  was  not 
“ churchy”  enough. 

The  case  was  briefly  this.  During  the 
reign  of  Queen  Anne  an  Act  was  passed 
which  took  from  the  Church  courts  in  Scot- 
land the  free  choice  as  to  the  appointment  of 
pastors  by  subjecting  the  power  of  the  pres- 
bytery to  the  control  and  interference  of  the 
law  courts.  Harley,  Bolingbroke  and  Swift, 
not  one  of  whom  cared  a rush  about  the  sup- 
posed sanctity  of  an  ecclesiastical  appoint- 
ment, were  the  authors  of  this  compromise, 
which  was  exactly  of  the  kind  that  sensible 
men  of  the  world  everywhere  might  be  sup- 
posed likely  to  accept  and  approve.  In  an 
immense  number  of  Scotch  parishes  the  min- 
ister was  nominated  by  a lay  patron  ; and  if 
the  presbytery  found  nothing  to  condemn  in 
him  as  to  “ life,  literature,  and  doctrine,” 
they  were  compelled  to  appoint  him,  now- 
ever  unwelcome  he  might  be  to  the  parish- 
ioners. Now  it  is  obvious  that  a man  might 
have  a blameless  character,  sound  religious 
views,  and  an  excellent  education,  and  never- 
theless be  totally  unfitted  to  undertake  the 
charge  of  a Scottish  parish.  The  Southwark 
congregation  who  appreciate  and  delight  in 
the  ministrations  of  Mr.  Spurgeon  might 
very  well  be  excused  if  they  objected  to  hav- 
ing a perfectly  moral  Charles  Honeyman,even 
though  his  religious  opinions  were  identical 
with  those  of  their  favorite,  forced  upon 
them  at  the  will  of  some  aristocratic  lay  pat- 
ron. The  effect  of  the  power  conferred  on 
the  law  courts  and  the  patron  was  simply  in 
a great  number  of  cases  to  send  families 
away  from  the  Church  of  Scotland  and  into 
voluntaryism.  The  Scotch  people  are  above 
all  others  impatient  of  any  attempt  to  force 
on  them  the  services  of  unacceptable  minis- 
ters. Men  clung  to  the  National  Church  as 
long  as  it  was  national — that  is,  as  long  as  it 
represented  and  protected  the  sacred  claims 
of  a deeply  religious  people.  Dissent,  or 
rather  voluntaryism,  began  to  make  a prog- 
ress in  Scotland  that  alarmed  thoughtful 
churchmen.  To  get  over  the  difficulty  the 
General  Assembly,  the  highest  ecclesiastical 
court  in  Scotland,  and  likewise  a sort  of 
Church  Parliament,  declared  that  a veto  on 
the  nomination  of  the  pastor  should  be  exer- 
cised by  the  congregation,  in  accordance 
with  a fundamental  law  of  the  Church  that 
no  pastor  should  be  intruded  on  any  congre- 
gation contrary  to  the  will  of  the  people. 
The  Veto  Act,  as  this  declaration  was  called, 
worked  well  enough  for  a short  time,  and  the 
highest  legal  authorities  declared  it  not  in- 
compatible with  the  Act  of  Queen  Anne. 
But  it  diminished  far  too  seriously  the  power 
of  the  lay  patron  to  be  accepted  without  a 
struggle.  In  the  celebrated  Auchterarder 
case  the  patron  won  a victory  over  the 
Church  in  the  courts  of  law,  for  having  pre- 
sented a minister  whose  appointment  was 
vetoed  by  the  congregation  ; he  obtained  an 
order  from  the  civil  courts  deciding  that  the 
presbytery  must  take  him  on  trial,  in  obedi- 
ence with  the  Act  of  Queen  Anne,  as  he  was 
qualified  by  life,  literature,  and  doctrine. 
This  question,  however,  was  easily  settled  by 
the  General  Assembly  of  the  Church.  They 
left  to  the  patron’s  nominee  his  stipend  and 
his  house,  and  took  no  further  notice  of  him. 
They  did  not  recognize  him  as  one  of  their 
pastors,  but  he  might  have,  if  he  would,  the 
manse  and  the  money  which  the  civil  courts 
had  declared  to  be  his.  They  merely  appeal- 
ed to  the  Legislature  to  do  something  which 
might  make  the  civil  law  in  harmony  with 
the  principles  of  the  Church.  A more  seri- 
ous question,  however,  presently  arose. 
This  was  the  famous  Strathbogie  case,  which 
brought  the  authority  of  the  Church  and  that 
of  the  State  into  irreconcilable  corflict.  A 
minister  had  been  nominated  in  the  parish  of 
Marnoch  who  was  so  unacceptable  to  the 
congregation  that  261  out  of  300  heads  of 
families  objected  to  his  appointment.  The 
General  Assembly  directed  the  presbytery  of 
Strathbogie,  in  which  the  parish  lay,  to  re- 


ject the  minister,  Mr.  Edwards.  The  pres- 
bytery had  long  been  noted  for  its  leaning 
towards  the  claims  of  the  civil  power,  and  it 
very  reluctantly  obeyed  the  command  of  the 
highest  authority  and  ruling  body  of  the 
Church.  Another  minister  was  appointed 
to  the  parish.  Mr.  Edwards  fought  the 
question  out  in  the  civil  court  and  obtained 
an  interdict  against  the  new  appointment, 
and  a decision  that  the  presbytery  were 
bound  to  take  himself  on  trial.  Seven  mem- 
bers, constituting  the  majority  of  the  presby- 
tery, determined,  without  consulting  the  Gen- 
eral Assembly,  to  obey  the  civil  power,  and 
they  admitted  Mr.  Edwards  on  trial.  The 
seven  were  brought  before  the  bar  of  the 
General  Assembly,  and  by  an  overwhelming 
majority  were  condemned  to  be  deposed 
from  their  places  in  the  ministry.  Their 
parishes  were  declared  vacant.  A more  com- 
plete antagonism  between  Church  and  State 
is  not  possible  to  imagine.  The  Church  ex- 
pelled from  its  ministry  seven  men  for  having 
obeyed  the  command  of  the  civil  laws. 

It  was  on  the  motion  of  Dr.  Chalmers  that 
the  seven  ministers  were  deposed.  Dr.  Chal- 
mers became  the  leader  of  the  movement 
which  was  destined  within  two  years  from 
the  time  we  are  now  surveying  to  cause  the 
disruption  of  the  ancient  Kirk  of  Scotland. 
No  man  could  be  better  fitted  for  the  task  of 
leadership  in  such  a movement.  He  was 
beyond  comparison  the  foremost  man  in  the 
Scottish  Church.  He  was  the  greatest  pul- 
pit orator  in  Scotland,  or,  indeed,  in  Great 
Britain.  As  a scientific  writer,  both  on  as- 
tronomy and  on  political  economy,  he  had 
made  a great  mark.  From  having  been  in 
his  earlier  days  the  minister  of  an  obscure 
Scottish  village  congregation,  he  had  sud- 
denly sprung  into  fame.  He  was  the  lion  of 
any  city  which  he  happened  to  visit.  If  he 
preached  in  London,  the  church  was  crowd- 
ed with  the  leaders  of  politics,  science,  and 
fashion,  eager  to  hear  him.  The  effect  he 
produced  in  England  is  all  the  more  surpris- 
ing seeing  that  he  spoke  in  the  broadest  Scot- 
tish accent  conceivable,  and,  as  one  admirer 
admits,  mispronounced  almost  every  word. 
We  have  already  quoted  what  Mr.  Gladstone 
said  about  the  style  of  Dr.  Newman  ; let  us 
cite  also  what  he  says  about  Dr.  Chalmers. 
“ I have  heard,”  said  Mr.  Gladstone,  “ Dr. 
Chalmers  preach  and  lecture.  Being  a man 
of  Scotch  blood,  I am  very  much  attached  to 
Scotland,  and  like  even  the  Scotch  accent ; 
but  not  the  Scotch  accent  of  Dr.  Chalmers. 
Undoubtedly  the  accent  of  Dr.  Chalmers  in 
preaching  and  delivery  was  a considerable 
impediment  to  his  success ; but  notwith- 
standing all  that,  it  was  overborne  by  the 
power  of  the  man  in  preaching — overborne 
by  his  power,  which  melted  into  harmony 
with  all  the  adjuncts  and  incidents  of  the 
man  as  a whole,  so  much  so,  that  although  I 
would  have  said  that  the  accent  of  Dr.  Chal- 
mers was  distasteful,  yet  in  Dr.  Chalmers 
himself  I would  not  have  had  it  altered  in 
the  smallest  degree.  ” Chalmers  spoke  with 
a massive  eloquence  in  keeping  with  his  pow- 
erful frame  and  his  broad  brow  and  his  com- 
manding presence.  His  speeches  were  a 
strenuous  blending  of  argument  and  emo- 
tion. They  appealed  at  once  to  the  strong 
common  sense  and  to  the  deep  religious  con- 
victions of  his  Scottish  audiences.  His 
whole  soul  was  in  his  work  as  a leader  of  re- 
ligious movements.  He  cared  little  or  noth- 
ing for  any  popularity  or  fame  that  he  might 
have  won.  Some  strong  and  characteristic 
words  of  his  own  have  told  us  what  he 
thought  of  passing  renown.  He  called  it  “ a 
popularity  which  rifles  home  of  its  sweets  ; 
and  by: elevating  a man  above  his  fellows 
places  him  in  a region  of  desolation,  where 
he  stands  a conspicuous  mark  for  the  shafts 
of  malice,  envy,  and  detraction  ; a popularity 
which,  with  its  head  among  storms  and  its 
feet  on  the  treacherous  quicksands,  has  noth- 
ing to  lull  the  agonies  of  its  tottering  exist- 
ence but  the  Hosannas  of  a drivelling  gen- 


eration.” There  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that 
these  were  Chalmers's  genuine  sentiments  ; 
and  scarcely  any  man  of  his  time  had  come 
into  so  sudden  and  great  an  endowment  of 
popularity.  The  reader  of  to-day  must  not 
look  for  adequate  illustration  of  the  genius 
and  the  influence  of  Chalmers  in  his  publish- 
ed works.  These  do  indeed  show  him  to 
have  been  a strong  reasoner  and  a man  of 
original  mind.  But  they  do  not  show  the 
Chalmers  of  Scottish  controversy.  That 
Chalmers  must  be  studied  through  the 
traces,  lying  all  around,  of  his  influence  upon 
the  mind  and  the  history  of  the  Scottish  peo- 
ple. The  Free  Church  of  Scotland  is  his 
monument.  He  did  not  make  that  Church. 
It  was  not  the  work  of  one  man,  or,  strictly 
speaking,  of  one  generation.  It  grew  natu- 
rally out  of  the  inevitable  struggle  between 
Church  and  State.  But  Chalmers  did  more 
than  any  other  man  to  decide  the  moment 
and  the  manner  of  its  coming  into  existence, 
and  its  success  is  his  best  monument. 

For  we  may  anticipate  a little  in  this  in- 
stance as  in  that  of  the  Oxford  movement, 
and  mention  at  once  the  fact  that  on  May 
18,  1843,  some  five  hundred  ministers  of  the 
Church  of  Scotland,  under  the  leadership  of 
Dr.  Chalmers,  seceded  from  the  old  Kirk 
and  set  about  to  form  the  Free  Church.  The 
Government  of  Sir  Robert  Peel  had  made  a 
weak  effort  at  compromise  by  legislative  en- 
actment, but  had  declined  to  introduce  any 
legislation  which  should  free  the  Kirk  of 
Scotland  from  the  control  of  the  civil  courts, 
and  there  was  no  course  for  those  who  held 
the  views  of  Dr.  Chalmers  but  to  withdraw 
from  the  Church  which  admitted  that  claim 
of  State  control.  Opinions  may  differ  as  to 
the  necessity,  the  propriety  of  the  secession 
— as  to  its  effects  upon  the  history  and  the 
character  of  the  Scottish  people  since  that 
time  ; but  there  can  be  no  difference  of  opin- 
ion as  to  the  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  in  which 
the  step  was  taken.  Five  hundred  ministers 
on  that  memorable  day  went  deliberately 
forth  from  their  positions  of  comfort  and 
honor,  from  home  and  competence,  to  meet 
an  uncertain  and  a perilous  future,  with  per- 
haps poverty  and  failure  to  be  the  final  re- 
sult of  their  enterprise,  and  with  miscon- 
struction and  misrepresentation  to  make  the 
bitter  bread  of  povery  more  bitter  still.  In 
these  pages  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
merits  of  religious  controversies  ; and  it  is 
no  part  of  our  concern  to  consider  even  the 
social  and  political  effects  produced  upon 
Scotland  by  this  great  secession.  But  we 
need  not  withhold  our  admiration  from  the 
men  who  risked  and  suffered  so  much  in  the 
cause  of  what  they  believed  to  be  their 
Church’s  true  rights  ; and  we  are  bound  to 
give  this  admiration  as  cordially  to  the  poor 
and  nameless  ministers,  the  men  of  the  rank 
and  file,  about  whose  doings  history  so  little 
concerns  herself,  as  to  the  leaders  like  Chal- 
mers, who,  whether  they  sought  it  or  not, 
found  fame  shining  on  their  path  of  self-sac- 
rifice. The  history  of  Scotland  is  illustrated 
by  many  great  national  deeds.  No  deed  it 
tells  of  surpasses  in  dignity  and  in  moral 
grandeur  that  secession— to  cite  the  words  of 
the  protest — ‘ ‘ from  an  Establishment  which 
we  loved  and  prized,  through  interference 
with  conscience,  the  dishonor  done  to  Christ’s 
crown,  and  the  rejection  of  his  sole  and  su- 
preme authority  as  King  in  his  Church.” 

CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  DISASTERS  OF  CABUL. 

The  earliest  days  of  the  Peel  Ministry  fell 
upon  trouble,  not  indeed  at  home,  but  abroad. 
At  home  the  prospect  still  seemed  bright. 
The  birth  of  the  Queen’s  eldest  son  was  an 
event  welcomed  by  national  congratulation. 
There  was  still  great  distress  in  the  agricul- 
tural districts  ; but  there  was  a general  con- 
fidence that  the  financial  genius  of  Peel 
would  quickly  find  some  way  to  make  bur- 
dens light,  and  that  the  condition  of  things 
all  over  the  country  would  begin  to  mend. 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


31 


It  was  a region  far  removed  from  the  knowl- 
edge and  the  thoughts  of  most  Englishmen 
that  supplied  the  news  now  beginning  to 
come  into  England  day  after  day,  and  to 
thrill  the  country  with  the  tale  of  one  of  the 
greatest  disasters  to  English  policy  and  Eng- 
lish arms  to  be  found  in  all  the  record  of  our 
dealings  with  the  East.  There  are  many  still 
living  who  can  recall  with  an  impression  as 
keen  as  though  it  belonged  to  yesterday  the 
first  accounts  that  reached  this  country  of 
the  surrender  at  Cabul,  and  the  gradual  ex- 
tinction of  the  army  that  tried  to  make  its 
retreat  through  the  terrible  Pass. 

This  grim  chapter  of  history  had  been  for 
some  time  in  preparation.  It  may  be  said  to 
open  with  the  reign  itself.  News  travelled 
slowly  then  ; and  it  was  quite  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  things  that  some  part  of  the  empire 
might  be  torn  with  convulsion  for  months 
before  London  knew  that  the  even  and  or- 
dinary condition  of  things  had  been  dis- 
turbed. In  this  instance,  the  rejoicings  at 
the  accession  of  the  young  Queen  were  still 
going  on,  when  a series  of  events  had  begun 
in  Central  Asia  destined  to  excite  the  pro- 
foundest  emotion  in  England,  and  to  exercise 
the  most  powerful  influence  upon  our  foreign 
policy  down  to  the  present  hour.  On  Sep- 
tember 20,  1837,  Captain  Alexander  Burnes 
arrived  at  Cabul,  the  capital  of  the  State  of 
Cabul,  in  the  north  of  Afghanistan,  and  the 
ancient  capital  of  the  Emperor  Baber,  whose 
tomb  is  on  a hill  outside  the  city.  Burnes 
was  a famous  orientalist  and  traveller,  the 
Burton  or  Burnaby  of  his  day  ; he  had  con- 
ducted an  expedition  into  Central  Asia  ; had 
published  his  travels  in  Bokhara,  and  had 
been  sent  on  a mission  by  the  Indian  Govern- 
ment, in  whose  service  he  was  to  study  the 
navigation  of  the  Indus.  He  was,  it  may  be 
remarked,  a member  of  the  family  of  Robert 
Burns,  the  poet  himself  having  changed  the 
original  spelling  of  the  name  which  all  the 
other  members  of  the  family  retained.  The 
object  of  the  journey  of  Captain  Burnes  to 
Cabul  in  1837  was  in  the  first  instance  to  en- 
ter into  commercial  relations  with  Dost  Ma- 
homed, then  ruler  of  Cabul,  and  with  other 
chiefs  of  the  western  regions.  But  events 
soon  changed  his  business  from  a commercial 
into  a political  and  diplomatic  mission  ; and 
his  tragic  fate  would  make  his  journey  mem- 
orable to  Englishmen  for  ever,  even  if  other 
events  had  not  grown  out  of  it  which  give  it 
a place  of  more  than  personal  importance  in 
history. 

. The  great  region  of  Afghanistan,  with  its 
historical  boundaries  as  varying  and  difficult 
to  fix  at  certain  times  as  those  of  the  old 
Dukedom  of  Burgundy,  has  been  called  the 
land  of  transition  between  Eastern  and  West- 
ern Asia.  All  the  great  ways  that  lead  from 
Persia  to  India  pass  through  that  region. 
There  is  a proverb  which  declares  that  no 
one  can  be  king  of  Hindostan  without  first 
becoming  lord  of  Cabul.  The  Afghans  are 
the  ruling  nation,  but  among  them  had  long 
been  settled  Hindoos,  Arabs,  Armenians, 
Abyssinians,  and  men  of  other  races  and  re- 
ligions. The  Afghans  are  Mahometans  of 
the  Shunite  sect,  but  they  allowed  Hindoos, 
Christians,  and  even  the  Persians,  who  are 
of  the  hated  dissenting  sect  of  the  Shiites,  to 
live  among  them  and  even  to  rise  to  high  po- 
sition and  influence.  The  founder  of  the 
Afghan  Empire,  Ahmed  Shah,  died  in  1773. 
He  had  made  an  empire  which  stretched 
from  Herat  on  the  west  to  Sirhind  on  the 
east,  and  from  the  Oxus  and  Cashmere  on 
the  north  to  the  Arabian  Sea  and  the  mouths 
of  the  Indus  on  the  south.  The  death  of  his 
son,  Timur  Shah,  delivered  the  kingdom  up 
to  the  hostile  factions,  intrigues,  and  quar- 
rels of  his  sons  ; the  leaders  of  a powerful 
tribe,  the  Barukzyes,  took  advantage  of  the 
events  that  arose  out  of  this  condition  of 
tilings  to  dethrone  the  descendants  of  Ahmed 
Shah.  When  Captain  Burnes  visited  Af- 
ghanistan in  1832,  the  only  part  of  all  their 
great  inheritance  which  yet  remained  with 


the  descendants  of  Ahmed  Shah  was  the 
principality  of  Herat.  The  remainder  of 
Afghanistan  was  parcelled  out  between  Dost 
Mahomed  and  his  brothers.  Dost  Mahomed 
was  a man  of  extraordinary  ability  and  en- 
ergy. He  would  probably  have  made  a name 
as  a soldier  and  a statesman  anywhere.  He 
had  led  a stormy  youth,  but  had  put  away 
with  maturity  and  responsibility  the  vices 
and  follies  of  his  earlier  years.  There  seems 
no  reason  to  doubt  that  although  he  was  a 
usurper  he  was  a sincere  lover  of  his  coun- 
try, and  on  the  whole  a wise  and  just  ruler. 
When  Captain  Burnes  visited  Dost  Mahom- 
ed he  was  received  with  every  mark  of 
friendship  and  favor.  Dost  Mahomed  pro- 
fessed to  be,  and  no  doubt  at  one  time  was, 
a sincere  friend  of  the  English  Government 
and  people.  There  was,  however,  at  that 
time  a quarrel  going  on  between  the  Shah  of 
Persia  and  the  Prince  of  Herat,  the  last  en- 
throned representative,  as  has  been  already 
said,  of  the  great  family  on  whose  fall  Dost 
Mahomed  and  his  brothers  had  mounted  into 
power.  So  far  as  can  now  be  judged,  there 
does  seem  to  have  been  serious  and  genuine 
ground  of  complaint  on  the  part  of  Persia 
against  the  ruler  of  Herat.  But  it  is  proba- 
ble too  that  the  Persian  Shah  had  been  seek- 
ing for,  and  in  any  case  would  have  found,  a 
pretext  for  making  war  ; and  the  strong  im- 
pression at  the  time  in  England,  and  among 
the  authorities  in  India,  was  that  Persia  her- 
self was  but  a puppet  in  the  hands  of  Russia. 
A glance  at  the  map  will  show  the  meaning 
of  this  suspicion  and  the  reasons  which  at 
once  gave  it  plausibility,  and  would  have 
rendered  it  of  grave  importance.  If  Persia 
were  merely  the  instrument  of  Russia,  and  if 
the  troops  of  the  Shah  were  only  the  advance 
guard  of  the  Czar,  then  undoubtedly  the  at- 
tack on  Herat  might  have  been  regarded  as 
the  first  step  of  a great  movement  of  Russia 
towards  our  Indian  dominion. 

There  were  other  reasons,  too,  to  give  this 
suspicion  some  plausibility.  Mysterious 
agents  of  Russia,  officers  in  her  service  and 
others,  began  to  show  themselves  in  Central 
Asia  at  the  time  of  Captain  Burnes’s  visit  to 
Dost  Mahomed.  Undoubtedly  Russia  did  set 
herself  for  some  reason  to  win  the  friendship 
and  alliance  of  Dost  Mahomed  ; and  Captain 
Burnes  was  for  his  part  engaged  in  the  same 
endeavor.  All  considerations  of  a merely  com- 
mercial nature  had  long  since  been  put  away, 
and  Burnes  was  freely  and  earnestly  negoti- 
ating with  Dost  Mahomed  for  his  alliance. 
Burnes  always  insisted  that  Dost  Mahomed 
himself  was  sincerely  anxious  to  become  an 
ally  of  England,  and  that  he  offered  more 
than  once  on  his  own  free  part  to  dismiss  the 
Russian  agents  even  without  seeing  them,  if 
Burnes  desired  him  to  do  so.  But  for  some 
reason  Burnes’s  superiors  did  not  share  his 
confidence.  In  Downing  Street  and  in 
Simla  the  profoundest  distrust  of  Dost  Ma- 
homed prevailed.  It  was  again  and  again 
impressed  on  Burnes  that  he  must  regard  Dost 
Mahomed  as  a treacherous  enemy  and  as  a man 
playing  the  part  of  Persia  and  of  Russia.  It 
is  impossible  now  to  estimate  fairly  all  the 
reasons  which  may  have  justified  the  Eng- 
lish and  the  Indian  Governments  in  this  con- 
viction. But  we  know  that  nothing  in  the 
policy  afterwards  followed  out  by  the  Indian 
authorities  exhibited  any  of  the  judgment 
and  wisdom  that  would  warrant  us  in  taking 
anything  for  granted  on  the  mere  faith  of 
their  dictum.  The  story  of  four  years — al- 
most to  a day  the  extent  of  this  sad  chapter 
of  English  history — will  be  a tale  of  such 
misfortune,  blunder,  and  humiliation  as  the 
annals  of  England  do  not  anywhere  else  pre- 
sent. Blunders  which  were  indeed  worse 
than  crimes,  and  a principle  of  action  which 
it  is  a crime  in  any  rulers  to  sanction, 
brought  things  to  such  a pass  with  us  that  in 
a few  years  from  the  accession  of  the  Queen 
we  had  in  Afghanistan  soldiers  who  were 
positively  afraid  to  fight  the  enemy,  and 
some  English  officials  who  were  not  ashamed 


to  treat  for  the  removal  of  our  most  formida- 
ble foes  by  purchased  assassination.  It  is  a 
good  thing  for  us  all  to  read  in  cold  blood 
this  chapter  of  our  history.  It  will  teach  us 
how  vain  is  a policy  founded  on  evil  and  ig- 
noble principles  ; how  vain  is  the  strength 
and  courage  of  men  when  they  have  not 
leaders  fit  to  command.  It  may  teach  us 
also  not  to  be  too  severe  in  our  criticism  of 
other  nations.  The  failure  of  the  French  in- 
vasion of  Mexico  under  the  Second  Empire 
seems  like  glory  when  compared  with  the 
failure  of  our  attempt  to  impose  a hated  sov- 
ereign on  the  Afghan  people. 

Captain  Burnes  then  was  placed  in  the 
painful  difficulty  of  having  to  carry  out  a 
policy  of  which  he  entirely  disapproved.  He 
believed  in  Dost  Mahomed  as  a friend,  and 
he  was  ordered  to  regard  him  as  an  enemy. 
It  would  have  been  better  for  the  career  and 
for  the  reputation  of  Burnes  if  he  had  simply 
declined  to  have  anything  to  do  with  a 
course  of  action  which  seemed  to  him  at 
once  unjust  and  unwise.  But  Burnes  was  a 
young  man,  full  of  youth’s  energy  and  am- 
bition. He  thought  be  saw  a career  of  dis- 
tinction opening  before  him,  and  he  was  un- 
willing to  close  it  abruptly  by  setting  himself 
in  obstinate  opposition  to  his  superiors.  He 
was,  besides,  of  a quick  mercurial  tempera- 
ment, over  which  mood  followed  mood  in 
rapid  succession  of  change.  A slight  con- 
tradiction sometimes  threw  him  into  momen- 
tary despondency  ; a gleam  of  hope  elated 
him  into  the  assurance  that  all  was  won.  It 
is  probable  that  after  a while  he  may  have 
persuaded  himself  to  acquiesce  in  the  judg- 
ment of  his  chiefs.  On  the  other  hand,  Dost 
Mahomed  was  placed  in  a position  of  great 
difficulty  and  danger.  He  had  to  choose. 
He  could  not  remain  absolutely  independent 
of  all  the  disputants.  If  England  would  not 
support  him,  he  must  for  his  own  safety  find 
alliances  elsewhere  ; in  Russian  statecraft  for 
example.  He  told  Burnes  of  this  again  and 
again,  and  Burnes  endeavored  without  the 
slightest  success  to  impress  his  superiors  with 
his  own  views  as  to  the  reasonableness  of 
Dost  Mahomed’s  arguments.  Runjeet 
Singh,  the  daring  and  successful  adventurer 
who  had  annexed  the  whole  province  of 
Cashmere  to  his  dominions,  was  the  enemy 
of  Dost  Mahomed  and  the  faithful  ally  of 
England.  Dost  Mahomed  thought  the  Brit- 
ish Government  could  assist  him  in  coming 
to  terms  with  Runjeet  Singh,  and  Burnes 
had  assured  him  that  the  British  Government 
would  do  all  it  could  to  establish  satisfac- 
tory terms  of  peace  between  Afghanistan 
and  the  Punjaub,  over  which  Runjeet  Singh 
ruled.  Burnes  wrote  from  Cabul  to  say  that 
Russia  had  made  substantial  offers  to  Dost 
Mahomed  ; Persia  had  been  lavish  in  her 
biddings  for  his  alliance  ; Bokhara  and  other 
states  had  not  been  backward  ; “ yet  in  all 
that  has  passed,  or  is  daily  transpiring,  the 
chief  of  Cabul  declares  that  he  prefers  the 
sympathy  and  friendly  offices  of  the  British 
to  all  these  offers,  however  alluring  they  may 
seem,  from  Persia  or  from  the  Emperor ; 
which  places  his  good  sense  in  a light  more 
than  prominent,  and  in  my  humble  judg- 
ment proves  that  by  an  earlier  attention  to 
these  countries  we  might  have  escaped  the 
whole  of  these  intrigues  and  held  long  since 
a stable  influence  in  Cabul.”  Burnes,  how- 
ever, was  unable  to  impress  his  superiors  with 
any  belief  either  in  Dost  Mahomed  or  in  the 
policy  which  he  himself  advocated,  and  the 
result  was  that  Lord  Auckland,  the  Gover- 
nor-General of  India,  at  length  resolved  to 
treat  Dost  Mahomed  as  an  enemy,  and  to 
drive  him  from  Cabul.  Lord  Auckland, 
therefore,  entered  into  a treaty  with  Runjeet 
Singh  and  Shah  Soojah-ool-Moolk,  the  ex- 
iled representative  of  what  we  may  call  the 
legitimist  rulers  of  Afghanistan,  for  the  res- 
toration of  the  latter  to  the  throne  of  his  an- 
cestors, and  for  the  destruction  of  the  power 
of  Dost  Mahomed. 

It  ought  to  be  a waste  of  time  to  enter  into 


32 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


any  argument  in  condemnation  of  such  a pol- 
icy in  uur  days.  Even  if  its  results  had  not 
proved  in  this  particular  instance  its  most 
striking  and  exemplary  condemnation,  it  is 
so  grossly  and  flagrantly  opposed  to  all  the 
principles  of  our  more  modern  statesmanship 
that  no  one  among  us  ought  now  to  need  a 
warning  against  it.  Dost  Mahomed  was  the 
accepted,  popular,  and  successful  ruler  of 
Cabul.  No  matter  what  our  quarrel  with 
him,  we  had  not  the  slightest  right  to  make 
it  an  excuse  for  forcing  on  his  people  a ruler 
whom  they  had  proved  before,  as  they  were 
soon  to  prove  again,  that  they  thoroughly 
detested.  Perhaps  the  nearest  parallel  to 
our  policy  in  this  instance  is  to  be  found  in 
the  French  invasion  of  Mexico,  and  the  dis- 
astrous attempt  to  impose  a foreign  ruler  on 
the  Mexican  people.  Each  experiment  ended 
in  utter  failure,  and  in  the  miserable  death 
of  the  unfortunate  puppet  prince  who  was 
put  forward  as  the  figure-head  of  the  enter- 
prise. But  the  French  Emperor  could  at 
least  have  pleaded  in  his  defence  that  Max- 
imilian of  Austria  had  not  already  been  tried 
and  rejected  by  the  Mexican  people.  Our 
protege  had  been  tried  and  rejected.  The 
French  Emperor  might  have  pleaded  that  he 
had  actual  and  substantial  wrongs  to  avenge. 
We  had  only  problematical  and  possible  dan- 
gers to  guard  against.  In  any  case,  as  has 
been  already  said,  the  calamities  entailed  on 
French  arms  and  counsels  by  the  Mexican 
intervention  read  like  a page  of  brilliant  suc- 
cess when  compared  with  the  immediate  re- 
sult of  our  enterprise  in  Cabul.  Before  pass- 
ing away  from  this  part  of  the  subject,  it  is 
necessary  to  mention  the  fact  that  among  its 
many  unfortunate  incidents  the  campaign 
led  to  some  peculiarly  humiliating  debates 
and  some  lamentable  accusations  in  the 
House  of  Commons.  Years  after  Burnes 
had  been  flung  into  his  bloody  grave,  it  was 
found  that  the  English  Government  had  pre- 
sented to  the  House  of  Commons  his  de- 
spatches in  so  mutilated  and  altered  a form, 
that  Burnes  was  made  to  seem  as  if  he  act- 
ually approved  and  recommended  the  policy 
which  he  especially  warned  us  to  avoid.  It 
is  painful  to  have  to  record  such  a fact,  but  it 
is  indispensable  that  it  should  be  recorded. 
It  would  be  vain  to  attempt  to  explain  how 
the  principles  and  the  honor  of  English  states- 
manship fell  for  the  hour  under  the  demoral- 
izing influence  which  allowed  such  things  to 
be  thought  legitimate.  An  Oriental  atmos- 
phere seemed  to  have  gathered  around  our 
official  leaders.  In  Afghanistan  they  were 
entering  into  secret  and  treacherous  treaties  ; 
in  England  they  were  garbling  despatches. 
When  years  after  Lord  Palmerston  was 
called  upon  to  defend  the  policy  which  had 
thus  dealt  with  the  despatches  of  Alexander 
Burnes,  he  did  not  say  that  the  documents 
were  not  garbled.  He  only  contended  that  as 
the  Government  had  determined  not  to  act 
on  the  advice  of  Burnes,  they  were  in  no 
wise  bound  to  publish  those  passages  of  his 
despatches  in  which  he  set  forth  assumptions 
which  they  believed  to  be  unfounded,  and 
advised  a policy  which  they  looked  upon  as 
mistaken.  Such  a defence  is  only  to  be  read 
with  wonder  and  pain.  The  Government 
were  not  accused  of  suppressing  passages 
which  they  believed,  rightly  or  wrongly,  to 
be  worthless.  The  accusation  was  that  by 
suppressing  passages  and  sentences  here  and 
there,  Burnes  was  made  to  appear  as  if  he 
were  actually  recommending  the  policy 
against  which  he  was  at  the  time  most  ear- 
nestly protesting.  Burnes  was  himself  the 
first  victim  of  the  policy  which  he  strove 
against,  and  which  all  England  has  since  con- 
demned. No  severer  word  is  needed  to  con- 
demn the  mutilation  of  his  despatches  than 
to  say  that  he  was  actually  made  to  stand 
before  the  country  as  responsible  for  having 
recommended  that  very  policy.  “It  should 
never  be  forgotten,”  says  Sir  J.  W.  Kaye, 
the  historian  of  the  Afghan  War,  “ by  those 
who  would  form  a correct  estimate  of  the 


character  and  career  of  Alexander  Burnes, 
that  both  have  been  misrepresented  in  those 
collections  of  State  papers  which  are  supposed 
to  furnish  the  best  materials  of  history,  but 
which  are  often  in  reality  only  one-sided 
compilations  of  garbled  documents  — coun- 
terfeits, which  the  ministerial  stamp  forces 
into  currency,  defrauding  a present  genera- 
tion, and  handing  down  to  posterity  a chain 
of  dangerous  lies.” 

Meanwhile  the  Persian  attack  on  Herat 
had  practically  failed,  owing  mainly  to  the 
skill  and  spirit  of  a young  English  officer, 
Eldred  Pottinger,  who  was  assisting  the  prince 
in  his  resistance  to  the  troops  of  the  Persian 
Shah.  Lord  Auckland,  however,  ordered 
the  assemblage  of  a British  force  for  service 
across  the  Indus,  and  issued  a famous  man- 
ifesto, dated  from  Simla,  October  1,  1838,  in 
which  he  set  forth  the  motives  of  his  policy. 
The  Governor-General  stated  that  Dost  Ma- 
homed had  made  a sudden  and  unprovoked 
attack  upon  our  ancient  ally,  Runjeet  Singh, 
and  that  when  the  Persian  army  was  besieg- 
ing Herat  Dost  Mahomed  was  giving  undis- 
guised support  to  the  designs  of  Persia.  The 
chiefs  of  Candahar,  the  brothers  of  Dost  Ma- 
homed, had  also,  Lord  Auckland  declared, 
given  in  their  adherence  to  the  plans  of  Per- 
sia. Great  Britain  regarded  the  advance  of 
Persian  arms  in  Afghanistan  as  an  act  of  hos- 
tility towards  herself.  The  Governor-Gen- 
eral had,  therefore,  resolved  to  support  the 
claims  of  the  Shah  Soojah-ool-Moolk,  whose 
dominions  had  been  usurped  by  the  existing 
rulers  of  Cabul,  and  who  had  found  an  hon- 
orable asylum  in  British  territory ; and 
“ whose  popularity  throughout  Afghanistan” 
— Lord  Auckland  wrote  in  words  that  must 
afterwards  have  read  like  the  keenest  and 
cruellest  satire  upon  his  policy — “had  been 
proved  to  his  Lordship  by  the  strong  and 
unanimous  testimony  of  the  best  authorities.  ” 
This  popular  sovereign,  this  favorite  of  his 
people,  was  at  the  time  living  in  exile,  with- 
out the  faintest  hope  of  ever  again  being  re- 
stored to  his  dominions.  We  pulled  the 
poor  man  out  of  his  obscurity,  told  him  that 
his  people  were  yearning  for  him,  and  that 
we  would  set  him  on  his  throne  once  more. 
We  entered  for  the  purpose  into  the  tripartite 
treaty  already  mentioned.  Mr.  (after  Sir  W. 
H.)  Macnaghten,  Secretary  to  the  Govern- 
ment of  India,  was  appointed  to  be  envoy 
and  minister  at  the  court  of  Shah  Soojah  ; 
and  Sir  Alexander  Burnes  (who  had  been  re- 
called from  the  court  of  Dost  Mahomed  and 
rewarded  with  a title  for  giving  the  advice 
which  his  superiors  thought  absurd)  was  de- 
puted to  act  under  his  direction.  It  is  only 
right  to  say  that  the  policy  of  Lord  Auckland 
had  the  entire  approval  of  the  British  Gov- 
ernment. It  was  afterwards  stated  in  Parlia- 
ment on  the  part  of  the  Ministry  that  a de- 
spatch recommending  to  Lord  Auckland  ex- 
actly such  a course  as  he  pursued  crossed  on 
the  way  his  despatch  announcing  to  the  Gov- 
ernment at  home  that  he  had  already  under- 
taken the  enterprise. 

We  conquered  Dost  Mahomed  and  de- 
throned him.  He  made  a bold  and  brilliant, 
sometimes  even  a splendid  resistance.  We 
took  Ghuznee  by  blowing  up  one  of  its  gates 
with  bags  of  powder,  and  thus  admitting  the 
rush  of  a storming  party.  It  was  defended 
by  one  of  the  sons  of  Dost  Mahomed,  who 
became  our  prisoner.  We  took  Jellalabad, 
which  was  defended  by  Akbar  Khan, 
another  of  Dost  Mahomed’s  sons,  whose 
name  came  afterwards  to  have  a hateful 
sound  in  all  English  ears.  As  we  approached 
Cabul,  Dost  Mahomed  abandoned  his  capital 
and  fled  with  a few  horsemen  across  the  In- 
dus. Shah  Soojah  entered  Cabul  accompa- 
nied by  the  British  officers.  It  was  to  have 
been  a triumphal  entry.  The  hearts  of  those 
who  believed  in  his  cause  must  have  sunk 
within  them  when  they  saw  how  the  Shah 
was  received  by  the  people  who,  Lord  Auck- 
land was  assured,  were  so  devoted  to  him. 
The  city  received  him  in  sullen  silence. 


Few  of  its  people  condescended  even  to  turn 
out  to  see  him  as  he  passed.  The  vast  ma- 
jority stayed  away  and  disdained  even  to 
look  at  him.  One  would  have  thought  that 
the  least  observant  eye  must  have  seen  that 
his  throne  could  not  last  a moment  longer 
than  the  time  during  which  the  strength  of 
Britain  was  willing  to  support  it.  The  Brit- 
ish army,  however,  withdrew,  leaving  only 
a contingent  of  some  eight  thousand  men, 
besides  the  Shah’s  own  hirelings,  to  main- 
tain him  for  the  present.  Sir  W.  Macnagh- 
ten  seems  to  have  really  believed  that  the 
work  was  done,  and  that  Shah  Soojah  was 
as  safe  on  his  throne  as  Queen  Victoria.  He 
was  destined  to  be  very  soon  and  very  cruelly 
undeceived. 

Dost  Mahomed  made  more  than  one  effort 
to  regain  his  place.  He  invaded  Shah  Soo- 
jah’s  dominions,  and  met  the  combined 
forces  of  the  Shah  and  their  English  ally  in 
more  than  one  battle.  On  November  2, 1840, 
he  won  the  admiration  of  the  English  them- 
selves by  the  brilliant  stand  he  made  against 
them.  With  his  Afghan  horse  he  drove  our 
cavalry  before  him,  and  forced  them  to  seek 
the  shelter  of  the  British  guns.  The  native 
troopers  would  not  stand  against  him  : they 
fled  and  left  their  English  officers,  who  vain- 
ly tried  to  rally  them.  In  this  battle  of  Pur- 
wandurrah  victory  might  not  unreasonably 
have  been  claimed  for  Dost  Mahomed.  He 
won  at  least  his  part  of  the  battle.  No 
tongues  have  praised  him  louder  than  those 
of  English  historians.  But  Dost  Mahomed 
had  the  wisdom  of  a statesman  as  well  as  the 
genius  of  a soldier.  He  knew  well  that  he 
could  not  hold  out  against  the  strength  of 
England.  A savage  or  semi-barbarous  chief- 
tain is  easily  puffed  up  by  a seeming  triumph 
over  a great  Power,  and  is  led  to  his  destruc- 
tion by  the  vain  hope  that  lie  can  hold  out 
against  it  to  tbe  last.  Dost  Mahomed  had  no 
such  ignorant  and  idle  notion.  Perhaps  he 
knew  well  enough  too  that  time  was  wholly 
on  his  side  ; that  he  had  only  to  wait  and  see 
the  sovereignty  of  Shah  Soojah  tumble  into 
pieces.  The  evening  after  his  brilliant  ex- 
ploit in  the  field  Dost  Mahomed  rode  quietly 
up  to  the  quarters  of  Sir  W.  Macnaghten, 
met  the  envoy,  who  was  returning  from  an 
evening  ride,  and  to  Macnaghten’s  utter 
amazement  announced  himself  as  Dost  Ma- 
homed, tendered  to  the  envoy  the  sword  that 
had  flashed  so  splendidly  across  the  field  of 
the  previous  day’s  fight,  and  surrendered 
himself  a prisoner.  His  sword  was  returned  ; 
he  was  treated  with  all  honor  ; and  a few 
days  afterwards  he  was  sent  to  India,  where 
a residence  and  a revenue  were  assigned  to 
him. 

But  the  withdrawal  of  Dost  Mahomed  from 
the  scene  did  nothing  to  secure  the  reign  of 
the  unfortunate  Shah  Soojah.  The  Shah 
was  hated  on  his  own  account.  He  was  re- 
garded as  a traitor  who  had  sold  his  country 
to  the  foreigners.  Insurrections  began  to  be 
chronic.  They  were  going  on  in  the  very 
midst  of  Cabul  itself.  Sir.  W.  Macnaghten 
was  warned  of  danger,  but  seemed  to  take  no 
heed.  Some  fatal  blindness  appears  to  have 
suddenly  fallen  on  the  eyes  of  our  people  in 
Cabul.  On  November  2,  1841,  an  insurrec- 
tion broke  out.  Sir  Alexander  Burnes  lived 
in  the  city  itself  ; Sir  W.  Macnaghten  and 
the  military  commander,  Major-General 
Elphinstone,  were  in  cantonments  at  some 
little  distance.  The  insurrection  might  have 
been  put  down  in  the  flrst  instance  with 
hardly  the  need  even  of  Napoleon’s  famous 
“ whiff  of  grapeshot.  ” But  it  was  allowed 
to  grow  up  without  attempt  at  control.  Sir 
Alexander  Burnes  could  not  be  got  to  believe 
that  it  was  anything  serious  even  when  a 
fanatical  and  furious  mob  were  besieging  his 
own  house.  The  fanatics  were  especially 
bitter  against  Burnes,  because  they  believed 
that  he  had  been  guilty  of  treachery.  They 
accused  him  of  having  pretended  to  be  the 
friend  of  Dost  Mahomed,  deceived  him,  and 
brought  the  English  into  the  country.  How 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


33 


entirely  innocent  of  this  charge  Burnes  was 
we  all  now  know  ; but  it  would  be  idle  to 
deny  that  there  was  much  in  the  external  as- 
pect of  events  to  excuse  such  a suspicion  in 
the  mind  of  an  infuriated  Afghan.  To  the 
last  Burnes  refused  to  believe  that  he  was  in 
danger.  He  had  always  been  a friend  to  the 
Afghans,  he  said,  and  he  could  have  nothing 
to  fear.  It  was  true.  He  had  always  been 
the  sincere  friend  of  the  Afghans.  It  was 
his  misfortune,  and  the  heavy  fault  of  his 
superiors,  that  he  had  been  made  to  appear 
as  an  enemy  of  the  Afghans.  He  had  now 
to  pay  a heavy  penalty  for  the  errors  and  the 
wrong-doing  of  others.  He  harangued  the 
raging  mob,  and  endeavored  to  bring  them  to 
reason.  He  does  not  seem  to  have  under- 
stood up  to  the  very  last  moment  that  by  re- 
minding them  that  he  was  Alexander  Burnes, 
their  old  friend,  he  was  only  giving  them  a 
new  reason  for  demanding  his  life.  He  was 
murdered  in  the  tumult.  He  and  his  brother 
and  all  those  with  them  were  hacked  to  pieces 
with  Afghan  knives.  He  was  only  in  his 
thirty-seventh  year  when  he  was  murdered. 
He  was  the  first  victim  of  the  policy  which 
had  resolved  to  intervene  in  the  affairs  of 
Afghanistan.  Fate  seldom  showed  with 
more  strange  and  bitter  malice  her  proverbial 
irony  than  when  she  made  him  the  first  vic- 
tim of  the  policy  adopted  in  despite  of  his 
best  advice  and  his  strongest  warnings. 

The  murder  of  Burnes  was  not  a climax  ; 
it  was  only  a beginning.  The  English  troops 
were  quartered  in  cantonments  outside  the 
city,  and  at  some  little  distance  from  it. 
These  cantonments  were  in  any  case  of  real 
difficulty  practically  indefensible.  The  pop- 
ular monarch,  the  darling  of  his  people, 
whom  we  had  restored  to  his  throne,  was  in 
the  Balia  Hissar,  or  citadel  of  Cabul.  From 
the  moment  when  the  insurrection  broke  out 
he  may  be  regarded  as  a prisoner  or  a be- 
sieged man  there.  He  was  as  utterly  unable 
to  help  our  people  as  they  were  to  help  him. 
The  whole  country  threw  itself  into  insurrec- 
tion against  him  and  us.  The  Afghans  at- 
tacked the  cantonments  and  actually  com- 
pelled the  English  to  abandon  the  forts  in 
which  all  our  commissariat  was  stored.  We 
were  thus  threatened  with  famine  even  if  we 
could  resist  the  enemy  in  arms  We  were 
strangely  unfortunate  in  our  civil  and  mili- 
tary leaders.  Sir.  W.  Macnagliten  was  a man 
of  high  character  and  good  purpose,  but  he 
was  weak  and  credulous.  The  commander, 
General  Elphinstone,  was  old,  infirm,  tor- 
tured by  disease,  broken  down  both  in  mind 
and  body,  incapable  of  forming  a purpose  of 
his  own,  or  of  holding  to  one  suggested  by 
anybody  else.  His  second  in  command  was 
a far  stronger  and  abler  man,  but  unhappily 
the  two  could  never  agree.  “ They  were 
both  of  them,”  says  Sir  J.  W.  Kaye,  “ brave 
men.  In  any  other  situation,  though  the 
physical  infirmities  of  the  one  and  the  can- 
kered vanity,  the  dogmatical  perverseness  of 
the  other,  might  have  in  some  measure  de- 
tracted from  their  efficiency  as  military  com- 
manders, I believe  they  would  have  exhibited 
sufficient  courage  and  constancy  to  rescue  an 
army  from  utter  destruction,  and  the  British 
name  from  indelible  reproach.  But  in  the 
Cabul  cantonments  they  were  miserably  out 
of  place.  They  seem  to  have  been  sent  there, 
by  superhuman  intervention,  to  work  out  the 
utter  ruin  and  prostration  of  an  unholy  pol- 
icy by  ordinary  human  means.”  One  fact 
must  be  mentioned  by  an  English  historian  ; 
one  which  an  English  historian  has  happily 
not  often  to  record.  It  is  certain  that  an 
officer  in  our  service  entered  into  negotia- 
tions for  the  murder  of  the  insurgent  chiefs 
who  were  our  worst  enemies.  It  is  more 
than  probable  that  he  believed  in  doing  so  he 
was  acting  as  Sir  W.  Macnaghten  would 
have  had  him  do.  Sir  W.  Macnaghten  was 
innocent  of  any  complicity  in  such  a plot, 
and  was  incapable  of  it.  But  the  negotia- 
tions were  opened  and  carried  on  in  his  name. 

A new  figure  appeared  on  the  scene,  a dark 


and  a fierce  apparition.  This  was  Akbar 
Khan,  the  favorite  son  of  Dost  Mahomed. 
He  was  a daring,  a clever,  an  unscrupulous 
young  man.  From  the  moment  when  he  en- 
tered Cabul  he  became  the  real  leader  of  the 
insurrection  against  Shah  Soojah  and  us. 
Macnaghten,  persuaded  by  the  military 
commander  that  the  position  of  things  was 
hopeless,  consented  to  enter  into  negotiations 
with  Akbar  Khan.  Before  the  arrival  of  the 
latter  the  chiefs  of  the  insurrection  had  offered 
us  terms  which  made  the  ears  of  our  envoy 
tingle.  Such  terms  had  not  often  been  even 
suggested  to  British  soldiers  before.  They 
were  simply  unconditional  surrender.  Mac- 
naghten indignantly  rejected,  them.  Every- 
thing went  wrong  with  him,  however.  We 
were  beaten  again  and  again  by  the  Afghans. 
Our  officers  never  faltered  in  their  duty  ; but 
the  melancholy  truth  has  to  be  told  that  the 
men,  most  of  whom  were  Asiatics,  at  last  be- 
gan to  lose  heart  and  would  not  fight  the  en- 
emy. So  the  envoy  was  compelled  to  enter 
into  terms  with  Akbar  Khan  and  the  other 
chiefs.  Akbar  Khan  received  him  at  first 
with  contemptuous  insolence — as  a haughty 
conqueror  receives  some  ignoble  and  humili- 
ated adversary.  It  was  agreed  that  the  Brit- 
ish troops  should  quit  Afghanistan  at  once  ; 
that  Dost  Mahomed  and  liis  family  should  be 
sent  back  to  Afghanistan  ; that  on  his  return 
the  unfortunate  Shah  Soojah  should  be  al- 
lowed to  take  himself  off  to  India  or  where 
he  would  ; and  that  some  British  officers 
should  be  left  at  Cabul  as  hostages  for  the 
fulfilment  of  the  conditions. 

The  evacuation  did  not  take  place  at  once, 
although  the  fierce  winter  was  setting  in, 
and  the  snow  was  falling  heavily,  ominously. 
Macnaghten  seems  to  have  had  still  some 
lingering  hopes  that  something  would  turn 
up  to  relieve  him  from  the  shame  of  quitting 
the  country  ; and  it  must  be  owned  that  he 
does  not  seem  to  have  had  any  intention  of 
carrying  out  the  terms  of  the  agreement  if  by 
any  chance  he  could  escape  from  them.  On 
both  sides  there  were  dallyings  and  delays.  At 
last  Akbar  Khan  made  a new  and  startling 
proposition  to  our  envoy.  It  was  that  they 
two  should  enter  into  a secret  treaty,  should 
unite  their  arms  against  the  other  chiefs,  and 
should  keep  Shah  Soojah  on  the  tin-one  as 
nominal  king,  with  Akbar  Khan  as  his 
vizier.  Macnaghten  caught  at  the  proposals. 
He  had  entered  into  terms  of  negotiation 
with  the  Afghan  chiefs  together  ; he  now 
consented  to  enter  into  a secret  treaty 
with  one  of  the  chiefs  to  turn  their  joint  arms 
against  the  others.  It  would  be  idle  and 
shameful  to  attempt  to  defend  such  a policy. 
We  can  only  excuse  it  by  considering  the 
terrible  circumstances  of  Macnaghten’s  po- 
sition, the  manner  in  which  his  nerves  and 
moral  fibre  had  been  shaken  and  shattered 
by  calamities,  and  his  doubts  whether  he 
could  place  any  reliance  on  the  promises  of 
the  chiefs.  He  had  apparently  sunk  into 
that  condition  of  mind  which  Macaulay  tells 
us  that  Clive  adopted  so  readily  in  his  deal- 
ing with  Asiatics,  and  under  the  influence  of 
which  men  naturally  honorable  and  high- 
minded  come  to  believe  that  it  is  right  to  act 
treacherously  with  those  whom  we  believe  to 
be  treacherous.  All  this  is  but  excuse,  and 
rather  poor  excuse.  When  it  has  all  been 
said  and  thought  of,  we  must  still  be  glad  to 
believe  that  there  are  not  many  Englishmen 
who  would,  under  any  circumstances,  have 
consented  even  to  give  a hearing  to  the  pro- 
posals of  Akbar  Khan. 

Whatever  Macnaghten’s  error,  it  was  dearly 
expiated.  He  went  out  at  noon  next  day  to 
confer  with  Akbar  Khan  on  the  banks  of  the 
neighboring  river.  Three  of  his  officers  were 
with  him.  Akbar  Khan  was  ominously  sur- 
rounded by  friends  and  retainers.  These 
kept  pressing  round  the  unfortunate  envoy. 
Some  remonstrance  was  made  by  one  of  the 
English  officers,  but  Akbar  Khan  said  it  was 
of  no  consequence,  as  they  were  all  in  the 
secret.  Not  many  words  were  spoken  ; the 

3 


expected  conference  had  hardly  begun  when  a 
signal  was  given  or  an  order  issued  by  Akbar 
Khan,  and  the  envoy  and  the  officers  were  sud- 
denly seized  from  behind.  A scene  of  wild 
confusion  followed,  in  which  hardly  anything 
is  clear  and  certain  but  the  one  most  horrible 
incident.  The  envoy  struggled  with  Akbar 
Khan,  who  had  himself  seized  Macnaghten  ; 
Akbar  Khan  drew  from  his  belt  one  of  a pair 
of  pistols  which  Macnaghten  had  presented  to 
him  a short  time  before,  and  shot  him 
through  the  body.  The  fanatics  who  were 
crowding  round  hacked  the  body  to  pieces 
with  their  knives.  Of  the  three  officers  one 
was  killed  on  the  spot ; the  other  two  were 
forced  to  mount  Afghan  horses  and  carried 
away  as  prisoners. 

At  first  this  horrid  deed  of  treachery  and 
blood  shows  like  that  to  which  Clearchus 
and  his  companions,  the  chiefs  of  the  famous 
ten  thousand  Greeks,  fell  victims  at  the  hands 
of  Tissaphernes,  the  Persian  satrap.  But  it 
seems  certain  that  the  treachery  of  Akbar, 
base  as  it  was,  did  not  contemplate  more  than 
the  seizure  of  the  envoy  and  his  officers. 
There  were  jealousies  and  disputes  among 
the  chiefs  of  the  insurrection.  One  of  them 
in  especial  had  got  his  mind  filled  with  the 
conviction,  inspired  no  doubt  by  the  unfortu- 
nate and  unparalleled  negotiation  already 
mentioned,  that  the  envoy  had  offered  a price 
for  his  head.  Akbar  Khan  was  accused  by 
him  of  being  a secret  friend  of  the  envoy  and 
the  English.  Akbar  Khan’s  father  was  a 
captive  in  the  hands  of  the  English,  and  it 
may  have  been  thought  that  on  his  account 
and  for  personal  purposes  Akbar  was  favor- 
ing the  envoy  and  even  intriguing  with  him. 
Akbar  offered  to  prove  his  sincerity  by  mak- 
ing the  envoy  a captive  and  handing  him 
over  to  the1  chiefs.  This  was  the  treacher- 
ous plot  which  he  strove  to  carry  out  by  en- 
tering into  the  secret  negotiations  with  the 
easily-deluded  envoy.  On  the  fatal  day  the 
latter  resisted  and  struggled  ; Akbar  Khan 
heard  a cry  of  alarm  that  the  English  soldiers 
were  coming  out  of  the  cantonments  to  rescue 
the  envoy ; and,  wild  with  passion,  he  sud- 
denly drew  his  pistol  and  fired.  This  was 
the  statement  made  again  and  again  by  Akbar 
Khan  himself.  It  does  not  seem  an  improb- 
able explanation  for  what  otherwise  looks  a 
murder  as  stupid  and  purposeless  as  it  was 
brutal.  The  explanation  does  not  much  re- 
lieve the  darkness  of  Akbar  Khan’s  charac- 
ter. It  is  given  here  as  history,  not  as  excul- 
pation. There  is  not  the  slightest  reason  to 
suppose  that  Akbar  Khan  would  have 
shrunk  from  any  treachery  or  any  cruelty 
which  served  his  purpose.  His  own  explana- 
tion of  his  purpose  in  this  instance  shows  a 
degree  of  treachery  which  could  hardly  be 
surpassed  even  in  the  East.  But  it  is  well  to 
bear  in  mind  that  the  suspicion  of  perfidy 
under  which  the  English  envoy  labored,  and 
which  was  the  main  impulse  of  Akbar  Khan’s 
movement,  had  evidence  enough  to  support 
it  in  the  eyes  of  suspicious  enemies  ; and  that 
poor  Macnaghten  would  not  have  been  mur- 
dered had  he  not  consented  to  meet  Akbar 
Khan  and  treat  with  him  on  a proposition  to 
which  an  English  official  should  never  have 
listened. 

A terrible  agony  of  suspense  followed 
among  the  little  English  force  in  the  canton- 
ments. The  military  chiefs  afterwards 
stated  that  they  did  not  know  until  the  fol- 
lowing day  that  any  calamity  had  befallen 
the  envoy.  But  a keen  suspicion  ran 
through  the  cantonments  that  some  fearful 
deed  had  been  done.  No  step  was  taken  to 
avenge  the  death  of  Macnaghten  even  when 
it  became  known  that  his  hacked  and 
mangled  body  had  been  exhibited  in  triumph 
all  through  the  streets  and  bazaars  of  Cabul. 
A paralysis  seemed  to  have  fallen  over  the 
councils  of  our  military  chiefs.  On  Decem- 
ber 24,  1841,  came  a letter  from  one  of  the 
officers  seized  by  Akbar  Khan,  accompany- 
ing proposals  for  a treaty  from  the  Afghan 
chiefs.  It  is  hard  now  to  understand  how 


34 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


any  English  officers  could  have  consented  to 
enter  into  terms  with  the  murderers  of  Mac- 
naghten  before  his  mangled  body  could  well 
have  ceased  to  bleed.  It  is  strange  that  it 
did  not  occur  to  most  of  them  that  there 
was  an  alternative  ; that  they  were  not  or- 
dered by  fate  to  accept  whatever  the  con- 
uerors  chose  to  offer.  We  can  all  see  the 
ifficulty  of  their  position.  General  Elpliin- 
stone  and  his  second  in  command,  Brigadier 
Shelton,  were  convinced  that  it  would  be 
equally  impossible  to  stay  where  they  were 
or  to  cut  their  way  through  the  Afghans. 
But  it  might  have  occurred  to  many  that  they 
were  nevertheless  not  bound  to  treat  with 
the  Afghans.  They  might  have  remembered 
the  famous  answer  of  the  father  in  Corneille’s 
immortal  drama,  who  is  asked  what  his  son 
could  have  done  but  yield  in  the  face  of  such 
odds,  and  exclaims  in  generous  passion  that 
he  could  have  died.  One  English  officer  of 
mark  did  counsel  his  superiors  in  this  spirit. 
This  was  Major  Eldred  Pottinger,  whose 
skill  and  courage  in  the  defence  of  Herat  we 
have  already  mentioned.  Pottinger  was  for 
cutting  their  way  through  all  enemies  and 
difficulties  as  far  as  they  could,  and  then 
occupying;  the  ground  with  their  dead  bodies. 
But  his  advice  was  hardly  taken  into  consid- 
eration. It  was  determined  to  treat  with  the 
Afghans  ; and  treating  with  the  Afghans 
now  meant  accepting  any  terms  the  Afghans 
chose  to  impose  on  their  fallen  enemies.  In 
the  negotiations  that  went  on  some  written 
documents  were  exchanged.  One  of  these, 
drawn  up  by  the  English  negotiators,  con- 
tains a short  sentence  which  we  believe  to  be 
absolutely  unique  in  the  history  of  British 
dealings  with  armed  enemies.  It  is  an  appeal 
to  the  Afghan  conquerors  not  to  be  too  hard 
upon  the  vanquished ; uot  to  break  the 
bruised  reed.  “ In  friendship,  kindness  and 
consideration  are  necessary,  not  overpowering 
the  weak  with  sufferings  !”  In  friendship  ! 
— we  appealed  to  the  friendship  of  Macnagh- 
ten’s  murderers  ; to  the  friendship,  in  any 
case,  of  the  man  whose  father  we  had  de- 
throned and  driven  into  exile.  Not  over- 
powering the  weak  with  sufferings  ! The 
weak  were  the  English  ! One  might  fancy 
he  was  reading  the  plaintive  and  piteous  ap- 
peal of  some  forlorn  and  feeble  tribe  of  help- 
less half-breeds  for  the  mercy  of  arrogant 
and  mastering  rulers.  “ Suffolk’s  imperious 
tongue  is  stern  and  rough,”  says  one  in 
Shakespeare’s  pages  when  he  is  bidden  to 
ask  for  consideration  at  the  hands  of  captors 
whom  he  is  no  longer  able  to  resist.  The 
tongue  with  which  the  English  force  at  Cabul 
addressed  the  Afghans  was  not  imperious  or 
stern  or  rough.  It  was  bated,  mild,  and 
plaintive.  Only  the  other  day,  it  would 
seem,  these  men  had  blown  up  the  gates  of 
Ghuznee  and  rushed  through  the  dense 
smoke  and  the  fallng  ruins  to  attack  the  en- 
emy hand  to  hand.  Only  the  other  day  our 
envoy  had  received  in  surrender  the  bright 
sword  of  Dost  Mahomed.  Now  the  same 
men  who  had  seen  these  things  could  only 
plead  for  a little  gentleness  of  consideration, 
and  had  no  thought  of  resistance,  and  did  not 
any  longer  seem  to  know  how  to  die. 

We  accepted  the  terms  of  treaty  offered  to 
us.  Nothing  else  could  be  done  by  men  who 
were  not  prepared  to  adopt  the  advice  of  the 
heroic  father  in  Corneille.  The  English  were 
at  once  to  take  themselves  off  out  of  Afghan- 
istan, giving  up  all  their  guns  except  six, 
which  they  were  allowed  to  retain  for  their 
necessary  defence  in  their  mournful  journey 
home  ; they  were  to  leave  behind  all  the 
treasure,  and  to  guarantee  the  payment  of 
something  additional  for  the  safe  conduct  of 
the  poor  little  army  to  Peshawur  or  to  Jella- 
labad ; and  they  were  to  hand  over  six 
officers  as  hostages  for  the  due  fulfilment  of 
the  conditions.  It  is  of  course  understood 
that  the  conditions  included  the  immediate 
release  of  Dost  Mahomed  and  his  family  and 
their  return  to  Afghanistan.  When  these 
should  return,  the  six  hostages  were  to  be 


I released.  Only  one  concession  had  been  ob- 
tained from  the  conquerors.  It  was  at  first 
demanded  that  some  of  the  married  ladies 
should  be  left  as  hostages  ; but  on  the  urgent 
representations  of  the  English  officers  this 
condition  was  waived  — at  least  for  the 
moment.  When  the  treaty  was  signed,  the 
officers  who  had  been  seized  when  Macnagh- 
ten  was  murdered  were  released. 

It  is  worth  mentioning  that  these  officers 
were  not  badly  treated  by  Akbar  Khan  while 
they  were  in  his  power.  On  the  contrary,  he 
had  to  make  strenuous  efforts,  and  did  make 
them  in  good  faith,  to  save  them  from  being 
murdered  by  bands  of  his  fanatical  followers. 
One  of  the  officers  has  himself  described  the 
almost  desperate  efforts  which  Akbar  Khan 
had  to  make  to  save  him  from  the  fury  of 
the  mob,  who  thronged  thirsting  for  the 
blood  of  the  Englishman  up  to  the  very 
stirrup  of  their  young  chief.  “ Akbar 
Khan,”  says  this  officer,  “ at  length  drew  his 
sword  and  laid  about  him  right  manfully”  in 
defence  of  his  prisoner.  When,  however,  he 
had  got  the  latter  into  a place  of  safety,  the 
impetuous  young  Afghan  chief  could  not  re- 
strain a sneer  at  his  captive  and  the  cause  his 
captive  represented.  Turning  to  the  English 
officer,  he  said  more  than  once,  “in  a tone 
of  triumphant  derision,”  some  words  such  as 
these  : “ So  you  are  the  man  who  came  here 
to  seize  my  country  ?’  ’ It  must  be  owned 
that  the  condition  of  things  gave  bitter  mean- 
ing to  the  taunt,  if  they  did  not  actually  ex- 
cuse it.  At  a later  period  of  this  melancholy 
story  it  is  told  by  Lady  Sale  that  crowds  of 
the  fanatical  Gliilzyes  were  endeavoring  to 
persuade  Akbar  Khan  to  slaughter  all  the 
English,  and  that  when  he  tried  to  pacify 
them  they  said  that  when  Burnes  came  into 
the  country  they  entreated  Akbar  Khan’s 
father  to  have  Burnes  killed,  or  he  would  go 
back  to  Hindostan,  and  on  some  future  day 
return  and  bring  an  army  with  him,  “ to  take 
our  country  from  us  and  all  the  calami- 
ties had  come  upon  them  because  Dost  Ma- 
homed would  not  take  their  advice.  Akbar 
Khan  either  was  or  pretended  to  be  moderate. 
He  might  indeed  safely  put  on  an  air  of  mag- 
nanimity. His  enemies  were  doomed.  It 
needed  no  command  from  him  to  decree 
their  destruction. 

The  withdrawal  from  Cabul  began.  It 
was  the  heart  of  a cruel  winter.  The  Eng- 
lish had  to  make  their  way  through  the 
awful  pass  of  Koord  Cabul.  This  stupen- 
dous gorge  runs  for  some  five  miles  between 
mountain  ranges  so  narrow,  lofty  and  grim, 
that  in  the  winter  season  the  rays  of  the  sun 
can  hardly  pierce  its  darkness  even  at  the 
noontide.  Down  the  centre  dashed  a precip- 
itous mountain  torrent  so  fiercely  that  the 
stern  frost  of  that  terrible  time  could  not  stay 
its  course.  The  snow  lay  in  masses  on  the 
ground  ; the  rocks  and  stones  that  raised 
their  heads  above  the  snow  in  the  way  of  the 
unfortunate  travellers  were  slippery  with 
frost.  Soon  the  white  snow  began  to  be 
stained  and  splashed  with  blood.  Fearful  as 
this  Koord  Cabul  Pass  was,  it  was  only  a de- 
gree worse  than  the  road  which  for  two 
whole  days  the  English  had  to  traverse  to 
reach  it.  The  army  which  set  out  from  Ca- 
bul numbered  more  than  four  thousand  fight- 
ing men — of  whom  Europeans,  it  should  be 
said,  formed  but  a small  proportion — and 
some  twelve  thousand  camp  followers  of  all 
kinds.  There  were  also  many  women  and 
children.  Lady  Macnaghten,  widow  of  the 
murdered  envoy  ; Lady  Sale,  whose  gallant 
husband  was  holding  Jellalabad,  at  the  near 
end  of  the  Kliyber  Pass,  towards  the  Indian 
frontier  ; Mrs.  Sturt,  her  daughter,  soon  to 
be  widowed  by  the  death  of  her  young  hus- 
band ; Mrs.  Trevor  and  her  seven  children, 
and  many  other  pitiable  fugitives.  The  win- 
ter journey  would  have  been  cruel  and  dan- 
gerous enough  in  time  of  peace  ; but  this 
journey  had  to  be  accomplished  in  the  midst 
of  something  far  worse  than  common  war. 
At  every  step  of  the  road,  every  opening  of 


the  rocks,  the  unhappy  crowd  of  confused 
and  heterogeneous  fugitives  were  beset  by 
bands  of  savage  fanatics,  who  with  their 
long  guns  and  long  knives  were  murdering 
all  they  could  reach.  It  was  all  the  way  a 
confused  constant  battle  against  a guerilla  en- 
emy of  the  most  furious  and  merciless  tem- 
per, who  were  perfectly  familiar  with  the 
ground,  and  could  rush  forward  and  retire 
exactly  as  suited  their  tactics.  The  English 
soldiers,  weary,  weak,  and  crippled  by  frost, 
could  make  but  a poor  fight  against  the  sav- 
age Afghans.  “ It  was  no  longer,”  says  Sir 
J.  W.  Kaye,  “ a retreating  army  ; it  was  a 
rabble  in  chaotic  flight.”  Men,  women,  and 
children,  horses,  ponies,  camels,  the  wounded, 
the  dying,  the  dead,  all  crowded  together  in 
almost  inextricable  confusion  among  the  snow 
and  amid  the  relentless  enemies.  “ The 
massacre” — to  quote  again  from  Sir  J.  W. 
Kaye,  “ was  fearful  in  this  Koord  Cabul 
Pass.  Three  thousand  men  are  said  to  have 
fallen  under  the  fire  of  the  enemy,  or  to  have 
dropped  down  paralyzed  and  exhausted  to  be 
slaughtered  by  the  Afghan  knives.  And 
amidst  these  fearful  scenes  of  carnage, 
through  a shower  of  matchlock  balls,  rode 
English  ladies  on  horseback  or  in  camel- 
panniers,  sometimes  vainly  endeavoring  to 
keep  their  children  beneath  their  eyes,  and 
losing  them  in  the  confusion  and  bewilder- 
ment of  the  desolating  march.” 

W as  it  for  this,  then,  that  our  troops  had 
been  induced  to  capitulate?  Was  this  the 
safe-conduct  which  the  Afghan  chiefs  had 
promised  in  return  for  their  accepting  the 
ignominious  conditions  imposed  on  them  ? 
Some  of  the  chiefs  did  exert  themselves  to 
their  utmost  to  protect  the  unfortunate  Eng- 
lish. It  is  not  certain  what  the  real  wish  of 
Akbar  Khan  may  have  been.  He  protested 
that  he  had  no  power  to  restrain  the  hordes 
of  fanatical  Ghilzyes  whose  own  immediate 
chiefs  had  not  authority  enough  to  keep  them 
from  murdering  the  English  whenever  they 
got  a chance.  The  force  of  some  few  hun- 
dred horsemen  whom  Akbar  Khan  had  with 
him  were  utterly  incapable,  he  declared,  of 
maintaining  order  among  such  a mass  of  in- 
furiated and  lawless  savages.  Akbar  Khan 
constantly  appeared  on  the  scene  during  this 
journey  of  terror.  At  every  opening  or  break 
of  the  long  straggling  flight  he  and  his  little 
band  of  followers  showed  themselves  on  the 
horizon  : trying  still  to  protect  the  English 
from  utter  ruin,  as  he  declared  ; come  to 
gloat  over  their  misery  and  to  see  that  it  was 
surely  accomplished,  some  of  the  unhappy 
English  were  ready  to  believe.  Yet  his  pres- 
ence was  something  that  seemed  to  give  a 
hope  of  protection.  Akbar  Khan  at  length 
startled  the  English  by  a proposal  that  the 
women  and  children  who  were  with  the  army 
should  be  handed  over  to  his  custody  to  be 
conveyed  by  him  in  safety  to  Peshawur. 
There  was  nothing  better  to  be  done.  The 
only  modification  of  his  request,  or  com- 
mand, that  could  be  obtained  was  that  the 
husbands  of  the  married  ladies  should  ac- 
company their  wives.  With  this  agreement 
the  women  and  children  were  handed  over 
to  the  care  of  this  dreaded  enemy,  and  Lady 
Macnaghten  had  to  undergo  the  agony  of  a 
personal  interview  with  the  man  whose  own 
hand  had  killed  her  husband.  Few  scenes 
in  poetry  or  romance  can  surely  be  more 
thrilling  with  emotion  than  such  a meeting 
as  this  must  have  been.  Akbar  Khan  was 
kindly  in  his  language,  and  declared  to  the 
unhappy  widow  that  he  would  give  his  right 
arm  to  undo,  if  it  were  possible,  the  deed 
that  he  had  done. 

The  women  and  children  and  the  married 
men  whose  wives  were  among  this  party 
were  taken  from  the  unfortunate  army  and 
placed  under  the  care  of  Akbar  Khan.  As 
events  turned  out  this  proved  a fortunate 
thing  for  them.  But  in  any  case  it  was  the 
best  thing  that  could  be  done.  Not  one  of 
these  women  and  children  could  have  lived 
through  the  horrors  of  the  journey  which  lay 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


35 


before  the  remnant  of  what  had  once  been  a 
British  force.  The  march  was  resumed  ; 
new  horrors  set  in  ; new  heaps  of  corpses 
stained  the  snow  ; and  then  Akbar  Khan 
presented  himself  with  a fresh  proposition. 
In  the  treaty  made  at  Cabul  between  the 
English  authorities  and  the  Afghan  chiefs 
there  was  an  article  which  stipulated  that 
“ the  English  force  at  Jellalabad  shall  march 
for  Peshawur  before  the  Cabul  army  arrives, 
and  shall  not  delay  on  the  road.”  Akbar 
Khan  was  especially  anxious  to  get  rid  of  the 
little  army  at  Jellalabad,  at  the  near  end  of 
the  Khyber  Pass.  He  desired  above  all 
things  that  it  should  be  on  the  march  home 
to  India  ; either  that  it  might  be  out  of  his 
way,  Or  that  he  might  have  a chance  of  de- 
stroying it  on  its  way.  It  was  in  great  meas- 
ure as  a security  for  its  moving  that  he  de- 
sired to  have  the  women  and  children  under 
his  care.  It  is  not  likely  that  he  meant  any 
harm  to  the  women  and  children  ; it  must 
be  remembered  that  his  father  and  many  of 
the  women  of  his  family  were  under  the  con- 
trol of  the  British  Government  as  prisoners 
in  Hindostan.  But  he  fancied  that  if  he  had 
the  English  "women  in  his  hands  the  army  at 
Jellalabad  could  not  refuse  to  obey  the  con- 
dition set  down  in  the  article  of  the  treaty. 
Now  that  he  had  the  women  in  his  power, 
however,  he  demanded  other  guarantees 
with  openly  acknowledged  purpose  of  keep- 
ing these  latter  until  Jellalabad  should  have 
been  evacuated.  He  demanded  that  General 
Elphinstone,  the  commander,  with  his  sec- 
ond in  command,  and  also  one  other  officer, 
should  hand  themselves  over  to  him  as  host- 
ages. He  promised  if  this  were  done  to  ex- 
ert himself  more  than  before  to  restrain  the 
fanatical  tribes,  and  also  to  provide  the  army 
in  the  Koord  Cabul  Pass  with  provisions. 
There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  submit ; and 
the  English  general  himself  became,  with  the 
women  and  children,  a captive  in  the  hands 
of  the  inexorable  enemy. 

Then  the  march  of  the  army,  without  a 
general,  went  on  again.  Soon  it  became  the 
story  of  a general  without  an  army  ; before 
very  long  there  was  neither  general  nor  army. 
It  is  idle  to  lengthen  a tale  of  mere  horrors. 
The  straggling  remnant  of  an  army  entered 
the  Jugdulluk  Pass — a dark,  steep,  narrow, 
ascending  path  between  crags.  The  miser- 
able toilers  found  that  the  fanatical,  implac- 
able tribes  had  barricaded  the  pass.  All 
was  over.  The  army  of  Cabul  was  finally 
extinguished  in  that  barricaded  pass.  It 
was  a trap  ; the  British  were  taken  in  it. 
A few  mere  fugitives  escaped  from  the  scene 
of  actual  slaughter,  and  were  on  the  road  to 
Jellalabad,  where  Sale  and  his  little  army 
were  holding  their  own.  When  they  were 
within  sixteen  miles  of  Jellalabad  the  num- 
ber was  reduced  to  six.  Of  these  six,  five 
were  killed  by  straggling  marauders  on  the 
way.  One  man  alone  reached  Jellalabad  to 
tell  the  tale.  Literally  one  man,  Dr.  Brydon, 
came  to  Jellalabad  out  of  a moving  host 
which  had  numbered  in  all  some  sixteen 
thousand  when  it  set  out  on  its  march.  The 
curious  eye  will  search  through  history  or  fic- 
tion in  vain  for  any  picture  more  thrilling 
with  the  suggestion  of  an  awful  catastrophe 
than  that  of  this  solitary  survivor,  faint  and 
reeling  on  his  jaded  horse,  as  he  appeared 
under  the  walls  of  Jellalabad,  to  bear  the 
tidings  of  our  Thermopylae  of  pain  and 
shame. 

This  is  the  crisis  of  the  story.  With  this 
at  least  the  worst  of  the  pain  and  shame  were 
destined  to  end.  The  rest  is  all,  so  far  as  we 
are  concerned,  reaction  and  recovery.  Our 
successes  are  common  enough  ; we  may  tell 
their  tale  briefly  in  this  instance.  The  garri- 
son at  Jellalabad  had  received  before  Dr. 
Brydon’s  arrival  an  intimation  that  they  were 
to  go  out  and  march  towards  India  in  accord- 
ance with  the  terms  of  the  treaty  extorted 
from  Elphinstone  at  Cabul.  They  very  prop- 
erly declined  to  be  bound  by  a treaty  which, 
as  General  Sale  rightly  conjectured,  had  been 


“ forced  from  our  envoy  and  military  com- 
mander with  the  knives  at  their  throats.” 
General  Sale’s  determination  was  clear  and 
simple.  “ I propose  to  hold  this  place  on 
the  part  of  Government  until  I receive  its 
order  to  the  contrary.  ’ ’ This  resolve  of  Sale’s 
was  really  the  turning  point  of  the  history. 
Sale  held  Jellalabad  ; Nott  was  at  Candahar. 
Akbar  Khan  besieged  Jellalabad.  Nature 
seemed  to  have  declared  herself  emphatically 
on  his  side,  for  a succession  of  earthquake 
shocks  shattered  the  walls  of  the  place,  and 
produced  more  terrible  destruction  than  the 
mostformidable  guns  of  modern  warfare  could 
haved  one.  But  the  garrison  held  out  fear- 
lessly ; they  restored  the  parapets,  re-establish- 
ed every  battery,  re-trenched  the  whole  of  the 
gates,  and  built  up  all  the  breaches.  They 
resisted  every  attempt  of  Akbar  Khan  to  ad- 
vance upon  their  works,  and  at  length,  when 
it  became  certain  that  General  Pollock  was 
forcing  the  Khyber  Pass,  to  come  to  their  re- 
lief, they  determined  to  attack  Akbar  Khan’s 
army  ; they  issued  boldly  out  of  their  forts, 
forced  a battle  on  the  Afghan  chief,  and  com- 
pletely defeated  him.  Before  Pollock,  hav- 
ing gallantly  fought  his  way  through  the 
Khyber  Pass,  had  reached  Jellalabad,  the 
beleaguering  army  had  been  entirely  defeated 
and  dispersed.  General  Nott  at  Candahar 
was  ready  now  to  co-operate  with  General 
Sale  and  General  Pollock  for  any  movement 
on  Cabul  which  the  authorities  might  advise 
or  sanction.  Meanwhile  the  unfortunate 
Shah  Soojah,  whom  we  had  restored  with 
so  much  pomp  of  announcement  to  the 
throne  of  his  ancestors,  was  dead.  He  was 
assassinated  in  Cabul,  soon  after  the  depart- 
ure of  the  British,  by  the  orders  of  some  of 
the  chiefs  who  detested  him  ; and  his  body, 
stripped  of  its  royal  robes  and  its  many  jew- 
els, was  flung  into  a ditch.  Historians  quar- 
rel a good  deal  over  the  question  of  his  sin- 
cerity and  fidelity  in  his  dealings  with  us.  It 
is  not  likely  that  an  Oriental  of  his  tempera- 
ment and  his  weakness  could  have  been 
capable  of  any  genuine  and  unmixed  loyalty 
to  the  English  strangers.  It  seems  to  us 
probable  enough  that  he  may  at  important 
moments  have  wavered  and  even  faltered, 
glad  to  take  advantage  of  any  movement  that 
might  safely  rid  him  of  us,  and  yet  on  the 
whole  preferring  our  friendship  and  our  pro- 
tection to  the  tender  mercies  which  he  was 
doomed  to  experience  when  our  troops  had 
left  him.  But  if  we  ask  concerning  his  grat- 
itude to  us,  it  may  be  well  also  to  ask  what 
there  was  in  our  conduct  towards  him  which 
called  for  any  enthusiastic  display  of  grati- 
tude. We  did  not  help  him  out  of  any  love 
for  him,  or  any  concern  for  the  justice  of  his 
cause.  It  served  us  to  have  a puppet,  and 
we  took  him  when  it  suited  us.  We  also 
abandoned  him  when  it  suited  us.  As  Lady 
Teazle  proposes  to  do  with  honor  in  her  con- 
ference with  Joseph  Surface,  so  we  ought  to 
do  with  gratitude  in  discussing  the  merits  of 
Shah  Soojah — leave  it  out  of  the  question. 
What  Shah  Soojah  owed  to  us  was  a few 
weeks  of  idle  pomp  and  absurd  dreams,  a 
bitter  awakening,  and  a shameful  death. 

During  this  time  a new  Governor-General 
had  arrived  in  India.  Lord  Auckland’s  time 
had  run  out,  and  during  its  latter  months 
he  had  become  nerveless  and  despondent  be- 
cause of  the  utter  failure  of  the  policy  which 
in  an  evil  hour  for  himself  and  his  country 
he  had  been  induced  to  undertake.  It  does 
not  seem  that  it  ever  was  at  heart  a policy  of 
his  own,  and  he  knew  that  the  East  India 
Company  were  altogether  opposed  to  it. 
The  Company  were  well  aware  of  the  vast 
expense  which  our  enterprises  in  Afghanis- 
tan must  impose  on  the  revenues  of  India, 
and  they  looked  forward  eagerly  to  the  ear- 
liest opportunity  of  bringing  it  to  a close. 
Lord  Auckland  had  been  persuaded  into 
adopting  it  against  his  better  judgment,  and 
against  even  the  whisperings  of  his  con- 
science ; and  now  he  too  longed  to  be  done 
with  it ; but  he  wished  to  leave  Afghanistan 


as  a magnanimous  conqueror.  He  had  in 
his  own  person  discounted  the  honors  of  vic- 
tory. He  had  received  an  earldom  for  the  ser- 
vices he  was  presumed  to  have  rendered  to  his 
sovereign  and  his  Country.  He  had  there- 
fore in  full  sight  that  mournful  juxtaposition 
of  incongruous  objects  which  a great  Eng- 
lish writer  has  described  so  touchingly  and 
tersely — the  trophies  of  victory  and  the  battle 
lost.  He  was  an  honorable,  kindly  gentle- 
man, and  the  news  of  all  the  successive  ca- 
lamities fell  upon  him  with  a crushing,  an 
overwhelming  weight.  In  plain  language, 
the  Governor-General  lost  his  head.  He 
seemed  to  have  no  other  idea  than  that  of 
getting  all  our  troops  as  quickly  as  might  be 
out  of  Afghanistan  and  shaking  the  dust  of 
the  place  off  our  feet  for  ever.  It  may  be 
doubted  whether,  if  we  had  pursued  such  a 
policy  as  this,  we  might  not  as  well  have  left 
India  itself  once  for  all.  If  we  had  allowed 
it  to  seem  clear  to  the  Indian  populations  and 
princes  that  we  could  be  driven  out  of  Af- 
ghanistan with  humiliation  and  disaster,  and 
that  we  were  unable  or  afraid  to  strike  one 
blow  to  redeem  our  military  credit,  we 
should  before  long  have  seen  in  Hindostan 
many  an  attempt  to  enact  there  the  scenes  of 
Cabul  and  Candahar.  Unless  a moralist  is 
prepared  to  say  that  a nation  which  has  com- 
mitted one  error  of  policy  is  bound  in  con- 
science to  take  all  the  worst  and  most  pro- 
tracted consequences  of  that  error,  and  never 
make  any  attempt  to  protect  itself  against 
them,  even  a moralist  of  the  most  scrupulous 
character  can  hardly  deny  that  we  were 
bound,  for  the  sake  of  our  interests  in  Eu- 
rope as  well  as  in  India,  to  prove  that  our 
strength  had  not  been  broken  nor  our  coun- 
sels paralyzed  by  the  disasters  in  Afghanis- 
tan. Yet  Lord  Auckland  does  not  appear  to 
have  thought  anything  of  the  kind  either 
needful  or  within  the  compass  of  our  na- 
tional strength.  He  was,  in  fact,  a broken 
man. 

His  successor  came  out  with  the  brightest 
hopes  of  India  and  the  world,  founded  on  his 
energy  and  strength  of  mind.  The  succes- 
sor was  Lord  Ellenborough,  the  son  of  that 
Edward  Law,  afterwards  Lord  Ellenbor- 
ough, Chief  Justice  of  the  King’s  Bench, 
who  had  been  leading  counsel  for  Warren 
Hastings  when  the  latter  was  impeached  be- 
fore the  House  of  Lords.  The  second  Ellen- 
borough was  at  the  time  of  his  appointment 
filling  the  office  of  President  of  the  Board  of 
Control,  an  office  he  had  held  before.  He 
was  therefore  well  acquainted  with  the  affairs 
of  India.  He  had  come  into  office  under  Sir 
Robert  Peel  on  the  resignation  of  the  Mel- 
bourne Ministry.  He  was  looked  upon  as  a 
man  of  great  ability  and  energy.  It  was 
known  that  his  personal  predilections  were  for 
the  career  of  a soldier.  He  was  fond  of  tell- 
ing his  hearers  then  and  since  that  the  life  of 
a camp  was  that  which  he  should  have  loved 
to  lead.  He  was  a man  of  great  and,  in  cer- 
tain lights,  apparently  splendid  abilities. 
There  was  a certain  Orientalism  about  his 
language,  his  aspirations  and  his  policy.  He 
loved  gorgeousness  and  dramatic — ill-natured 
persons  said  theatric — effects.  Life  arranged 
itself  in  his  eyes  as  a superb  and  showy  pa- 
geant of  which  it  would  have  been  his  am- 
bition to  form  the  central  figure.  His  elo- 
quence was  often  of  a lofty  and  noble  order. 
Men  who  are  still  hardly  of  middle  age  can 
remember  Lord  Ellenborough  on  great  oc- 
casions in  the  House  of  Lords,  and  can  recol- 
lect their  having  been  deeply  impressed  by 
him,  even  though  they  had  but  lately  heard 
such  speakers  as  Gladstone  or  Bright  in  the 
other  House.  It  was  not  easy,  indeed, 
sometimes  to  avoid  the  conviction  that  in 
listening  to  Lord  Ellenborough  one  was  lis- 
tening to  a really  great  orator  of  a somewhat 
antique  and  stately  type,  who  attuned  his 
speech  to  the  pitch  of  an  age  of  loftier  and 
less  prosaic  aims  than  ours.  When  he  had  a 
great  question  to  deal  with,  and  when  his  in- 
stincts, if  not  his  reasoning  power,  had  put 


36 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


him  on  the  right  or  at  least  the  effective 
side  of  it,  he  could  speak  in  a tone  of  poetic 
and  elevated  eloquence  to  which  it  was  im- 
possible to  listen  without  emotion.  But  if 
Lord  Ellenborough  was  in  some  respects  a 
man  of  genius,  lie  was  also  a man  whose 
love  of  mere  effects  often  made  him  seem 
like  a quack.  There  are  certain  characters 
in  which  a little  of  unconscious  quackery  is 
associated  with  some  of  the  elements  of  true 
genius.  Lord  Ellenborough  was  one  of 
these.  Far  greater  men  than  he  must  be  as- 
sociated in  the  same  category.  The  elder 
Pitt,  the  first  Napoleon,  Mirabeau,  Boling- 
broke,  and  many  others,  were  men  in  whom 
undoubtedly  some  of  the  charlatan  was 
mixed  up  with  some  of  the  very  highest 
qualities  of  genius.  In  Lord  Ellenborough 
this  blending  was  strongly  and  sometimes 
even  startlingly  apparent.  To  this  hour 
there  are  men  who  knew  him  well  in  public 
and  private  on  whom  his  weaknesses  made 
so  disproportionate  an  impression  that  they 
can  see  in  him  little  more  than  a mere  char- 
latan. This  is  entirely  unjust.  He  was  a 
man  of  great  abilities  and  earnestness,  who 
had  in  him  a strange  dash  of  the  play-actor, 
who  at  the  most  serious  moment  of  emer- 
gency always  thought  of  how  to  display  him- 
self effectively,  and  who  would  have  met  the 
peril  of  an  empire  as  poor  Narcissa  met 
death,  with  an  overmastering  desire  to  show 
to  the  best  personal  advantage. 

Lord  Ellenborough’s  appointment  was 
hailed  by  all  parties  in  India  as  the  most  au- 
spicious that  could  be  made.  Here,  people 
said,  is  surely  the  great  stage  for  a great  act- 
or ; and  now  the  great  actor  is  coming. 
There  would  be  something  fascinating  to  a 
temper  like  his  in  the  thought  of  redeeming 
the  military  honor  of  his  country  and  stand- 
ing out  in  history  as  the  avenger  of  the 
shames  of  Cabul.  But  those  who  thought  in 
this  way  found  themselves  suddenly  disap- 
pointed. Lord  Ellenborough  uttered  and 
wrote  a few  showy  sentences  about  reveng- 
ing our  losses  and  ' ‘ re-establishing  in  all  its 
original  brilliancy  our  military  character.” 
But  when  he  had  done  this  he  seemed  to 
have  relieved  his  mind  and  to  have  done 
enough.  With  him  there  was  a constant 
tendency  to  substitute  grandiose  phrases  for 
deeds  ; or  perhaps  to  think  that  the  phrase 
was  the  thing  of  real  moment.  He  said 
these  fine  words,  and  then  at  once  he  an- 
nounced that  the  only  object  of  the  Govern- 
ment was  to  get  the  troops  out  of  Afghanis- 
tan as  quickly  as  might  be,  and  almost  on 
any  terms.  The  whole  of  Lord  Ellen- 
borough’s conduct  during  this  crisis  is  inex- 
plicable except  on  the  assumption  that  he 
really  did  not  know  at  certain  times  how  to 
distinguish  between  phrases  and  actions.  A 
general  outcry  was  raised  in  India  and  among 
the  troops  in  Afghanistan  against  the  extra- 
ordinary policy  which  Lord  Ellenborough 
propounded.  Englishmen,  in  fact,  refused 
to  believe  in  it ; took  it  as  something  that 
must  be  put  aside.  English  soldiers  could 
not  believe  that  they  were  to  be  recalled  after 
defeat ; they  persisted  in  the  conviction  that, 
let  the  Governor-General  say  what  he  might, 
his  intention  must  be  that  the  army  should 
retrieve  its  fame  and  retire  only  after  com- 
plete victory.  The  Governor-General  him- 
self after  a while  quietly  acted  on  this  inter- 
pretation of  lus  meaning.  He  allowed  the 
military  commanders  in  Afghanistan  to  pull 
their  resources  together  and  prepare  for  in- 
flicting signal  chastisement  on  the  enemy. 
They  were  not  long  in  doing  this.  They  en- 
countered the  enemy  wherever  he  showed 
himself  and  defeated  him.  They  recaptured 
town  after  town,  until  at  length,  on  Septem- 
ber 15,  1842,  General  Pollock’s  force  entered 
Cabul.  A few  days  after,  as  a lasting  mark 
of  retribution  for  the  crimes  which  had  been 
committeed  there,  the  British  commander  or- 
dered the  destruction  of  the  great  bazaar  of 
Cabul,  where  the  mangled  remains  of  the 
unfortunate  envoy  Macnaghten  had  been  ex- 


hibited in  brutal  triumph  and  joy  to  the  Af- 
ghan populace. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  enter  into  detailed  de- 
scriptions of  the  successful  progress  of  our 
arms.  The  war  may  be  regarded  as  over. 
It  is,  however,  necessary  to  say  something 
of  the  fate  of  the  captives,  or  hostages,  who 
were  hurried  away  that  terrible  January 
night  at  the  command  of  Akbar  Khan.  One 
thing  has  first  to  be  told  which  some  may 
now  receive  with  incredulity,  but  which  is, 
nevertheless,  true — there  was  a British  gen- 
eral, who  was  disposed  to  leave  them  to  their 
fate  and  take  no  trouble  about  them,  and 
who  declared  himself  under  the  conviction, 
from  the  tenor  of  all  Lord  Ellenborough’s 
despatches,  that  the  recovery  of  the  prison- 
ers was  “ a matter  of  indifference  to  the  Gov- 
ernment.” There  seems  to  have  been  some 
unhappy  spell  working  against  us  in  all  this 
chapter  of  our  history,  by  virtue  of  which 
even  its  most  brilliant  pages  were  destined  to 
have  something  ignoble  or  ludicrous  written 
on  them.  Better  counsels,  however,  pre- 
vailed. General  Pollock  insisted  on  an  effort 
being  made  to  recover  the  prisoners  before 
the  troops  began  to  return  to  India,  and  he 
appointed  to  this  noble  duty  the  husband  of 
one  of  the  hostage  ladies — Sir  Robert  Sale. 
The  prisoners  were  recovered  with  greater 
ease  than  was  expected — so  many  of  them  as 
were  yet  alive.  Poor  General  Elpliinstone 
had  long  before  succumbed  to  disease  and 
hardship.  The  ladies  had  gone  through 
strange  privations.  Thirty-six  years  ago  the 
tale  of  the  captivity  of  Lady  Sale  and  her 
companions  was  in  every  mouth  all  over 
England  ; nor  did  any  civilized  land  fail  to 
take  an  interest  in  the  strange  and  pathetic 
story.  They  were  hurried  from  fort  to  fort 
as  the  designs  and  the  fortunes  of  Akbar 
Khan  dictated  his  disposal  of  them.  They 
suffered  almost  every  fierce  alternation  of 
cold  and  heat.  They  had  to  live  on  the 
coarsest  fare  ; they  were  lodged  in  a manner 
which  would  have  made  the  most  wretched 
prison  accommodation  of  a civilized  country 
seem  luxurious  by  comparison  ; they  were 
in  constant  uncertainty  and  fear,  not  know- 
ing what  might  befall.  Yet  they  seem  to 
have  held  up  their  courage  and  spirits  won- 
derfully well,  and  to  have  kept  the  hearts  of 
the  children  alive  with  mirth  and  sport  at 
moments  of  the  utmost  peril.  Gradually  it 
became  more  and  more  suspected  that  the  for- 
tunes of  Akbar  Khan  were  failing.  At  last 
it  was  beyond  doubt  that  he  had  been  com- 
pletely defeated.  Then  they  were  hurried 
away  again,  they  knew  not  whither,  through 
ever-ascending  mountain  passes,  under  a 
scorching  sun.  They  were  being  carried  off 
to  the  wild  rugged  regions  of  the  Indian 
Caucasus.  They  were  bestowed  in  a misera- 
ble fort  at  Bameean.  They  were  now  under 
the  charge  of  one  of  Akbar  Khan’s  soldiers 
of  fortune.  This  man  had  begun  to  suspect 
that  things  were  well-nigh  hopeless  with  Ak- 
bar Khan.  He  was  induced  by  gradual  and 
very  cautious  approaches  to  enter  into  an 
agreement  with  the  prisoners  for  their  re- 
lease. The  English  officers  signed  an  agree- 
ment with  him  to  secure  him  a large  reward 
and  a pension  for  life  if  he  enabled  them  to 
escape.  He  accordingly  declared  that  he  re- 
nounced his  allegiance  to  Akbar  Khan  ; all 
the  more  readily  seeing  that  news  came  in  of 
the  chief’s  total  defeat  and  flight,  no  one 
knew  whither.  The  prisoners  and  their  es- 
cort, lately  their  jailer  and  guards,  set  forth 
on  their  way  to  General  Pollock’s  camp.  On 
their  way  they  met  the  English  parties  sent 
out  to  seek  for  them.  Sir  Robert  Sale  found 
his  wife  again.  “ Our  joy,”  says  one  of  the 
rescued  prisoners,  was  too  great,  too  over- 
whelming, for  tongue  to  utter.”  Descrip- 
tion, indeed,  could  do  nothing  for  the  effect 
of  such  a meeting  but  to  spoil  it. 

There  is  a very  different  ending  to  the  epi- 
sode of  the  English  captives  in  Bokhara. 
Colonel  Stoddart,  who  had  been  sent  to  the 
Persian  camp  in  the  beginning  of  all  these 


events  to  insist  that  Persia  must  desist  from 
the  siege  of  Herat,  was  sent  subsequently  on 
a mission  to  the  Ameer  of  Bokhara.  The 
Ameer  received  him  favorably  at  first,  but 
afterwards  became  suspicious  of  English  de- 
signs of  conquest,  and  treated  Stoddart  with 
marked  indignity.  The  Ameer  appears  to 
have  been  the  very  model  of  a melodramatic 
Eastern  tyrant.  He  was  cruel  and  capricious 
as  another  Caligula,  and  perhaps  in  truth 
quite  as  mad.  He  threw  Stoddart  into 
prison.  Captain  Conolly  was  appointed  two 
years  after  to  proceed  to  Bokhara  and  other 
countries  of  the  same  region.  He  undertook 
to  endeavor  to  effect  the  liberation  of  Stod- 
dart, but  could  only  succeed  in  sharing  his 
sufferings,  and,  at  last,  his  fate.  The  Ameer 
had  written  a letter  to  the  Queen  of  Eng- 
land, and  the  answer  was  written  by  the  For- 
eign Secretary,  referring  the  Ameer  to  the 
Governor-General  of  India.  The  savage  ty- 
rant redoubled  the  ill-treatment  of  his  cap- 
tives. He  accused  them  of  being  spies  and 
of  giving  help  to  his  enemies.  The  Indian 
Government  were  of  opinion  that  the  envoys 
had  in  some  manner  exceeded  their  instruc- 
tions, and  that  Conolly  in  particular  had  con- 
tributed by  indiscretion  to  his  own  fate. 
Nothing  therefore  was  done  to  obtain  their 
release  beyond  diplomatic  efforts,  and  ap- 
peals to  the  magnanimity  of  the  Ameer, 
which  had  not  any  particular  effect.  Dr. 
Wolff,  the  celebrated  traveller  and  mission- 
ary, afterwards  undertook  an  expedition  of 
his  own  in  the  hope  of  saving  the  unfortu- 
nate captives  ; but  he  only  reached  Bokhara 
in  time  to  hear  that  they  had  been  put  to 
death.  The  moment  and  the  actual  manner 
of  their  death  cannot  be  known  to  positive 
certainty,  but  there  is  little  doubt  that  they 
were  executed  on  the  same  day  by  the  orders 
of  the  Ameer.  The  journals  of  Conolly 
have  been  preserved  up  to  an  advanced  pe- 
riod of  his  captivity,  and  they  relieve  so  far 
the  melancholy  of  the  fate  that  fell  on  the 
unfortunate  officers  by  showing  that  the  hor- 
rors of  their  hopeless  imprisonment  were  so 
great  that  their  dearest  friends  must  have 
been  glad  to  know  of  their  release  even  by 
the  knife  of  the  executioner.  It  is  perhaps 
not  the  least  bitter  part  of  the  story  that,  in 
the  belief  of  many,  including  the  unfortunate 
officers  themselves,  the  course  pursued  by 
the  English  authorities  in  India  had  done 
more  to  hand  them  over  to  the  treacherous 
cruelty  of  their  captor  than  to  release  them 
from  his  power.  In  truth  the  authorities  in 
India  had  had  enough  of  intervention.  It 
would  have  needed  a great  exigency  indeed 
to  stir  them  into  energy  of  action  soon  again 
in  Central  Asia. 

This  thrilling  chapter  of  English  history 
closes  with  something  like  a piece  of  harle- 
quinade. The  curtain  fell  amid  general 
laughter.  Only  the  genius  of  Lord  Ellen- 
borough could  have  turned  the  mood  of  In- 
dia and  of  England  to  mirth  on  such  a sub- 
ject. Lord  Ellenborough  was  equal  to  this 
extraordinary  feat.  The  never-to-be-forgot- 
ten proclamation  about  the  restoration  to  In- 
dia of  the  gates  of  the  temple  of  Somnauth, 
redeemed  at  Lord  Ellenborough’s  orders 
when  Ghuznee  was  retaken  by  the  English, 
was  first  received  with  incredulity  as  a prac- 
tical joke  ; then  with  one  universal  burst  of 
laughter  ; then  with  indignation  ; and  then, 
again,  when  the  natural  anger  had  died 
away,  with  laughter  again.  "My  brothers 
and  my  friends,”  wrote  Lord  Ellenborough 
‘ ‘ to  all  the  princes,  chiefs,  and  people  of 
India,” — “ Our  victorious  army  bears  the 
gates  of  the  temple  of  Somnauth  in  triumph 
from  Afghanistan,  and  the  despoiled  tomb  of 
Sultan  Mahmoud  looks  upon  the  ruins  of 
Ghuznee.  The  insult  of  eight  hundred  years 
is  at  last  avenged.  The  gates  of  the  temple 
of  Somnauth,  so  long  the  memorial  of  your 
humiliation,  are  become  the  proudest  record 
of  your  national  glory  ; the  proof  of  your 
superiority  in  arms  over  the  nations  beyond 
the  Indus.” 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


37 


No  words  of  pompous  man  could  possibly 
have  put  together  greater  absurdities.  The 
brothers  and  friends  were  Mahometans  and 
Hindoos,  who  were  about  as  likely  to  agree 
as  to  the  effect  of  these  symbols  of  triumph 
as  a Fenian  and  an  Orangeman  would  be  to 
fraternize  in  a toast  to  the  glorious,  pious  and 
immortal  memory.  To  the  Mahometans  the 
triumph  of  Lord  Ellenborough  was  simply 
an  insult.  To  the  Hindoos  the  offer  was  ri- 
diculous, for  the  temple  of  Somnauth  itself 
was  in  ruins,  and  the  ground  it  covered  was 
trodden  by  Mahometans.  To  finish  the  ab- 
surdity, the  gates  proved  not  to  be  genuine 
relics  at  all. 

On  October  1,  1842,  exactly  four  years 
since  Lord  Auckland’s  proclamation  an- 
nouncing and  justifying  the  intervention  to 
restore  Shah  Soojah,  Lord  Ellenborough  is- 
sued another  proclamation  announcing  the 
complete  failure  and  the  revocation  of  the 
policy  of  his  predecessor.  Lord  Ellenbor- 
ough declared  that  “to  force  a sovereign 
upon  a reluctant  people  would  be  as  inconsist- 
ent with  the  policy  as  it  is  with  the  princi- 
ples of  the  British  Government that  there- 
fore they  would  recognize  any  government 
approved  by  the  Afghans  themselves  ; that 
the  British  arms  would  be  withdrawn  from 
Afghanistan,  and  that  the  Government  of 
India  would  remain  “ content  with  the  lim- 
its nature  appears  to  have  assigned  to  its  em- 
pire.” Dost  Mahomed  was  released  from 
his  captivity,  and  before  long  was  ruler  of 
Cabul  once  again.  Thus  ended  the  story  of 
our  expedition  to  reorganize  the  internal  con- 
dition of  Afghanistan.  After  four  years  of 
unparalleled  trial  and  disaster  everything  was 
restored  to  the  condition  in  which  we  found 
it ; except  that  there  were  so  many  brave 
Englishmen  sleeping  in  bloody  graves.  The 
Duke  of  Wellington  ascribed  the  causes  of 
our  failure  to  making  war  with  a peace  estab- 
lishment ; making  war  without  a safe  base 
of  operations  ; carrying  the  native  army  out 
of  India  into  a strange  and  cold  climate  ; in- 
vading a poor  country  which  was  unequal  to 
the  supply  of  our  wants ; giving  undue 
power  to  political  agents ; want  of  fore- 
thought and  undue  confidence  in  the  Af- 
ghans on  the  part  of  Sir  W.  Macnaghten  ; 
placing  our  magazines,  even  our  treasure,  in 
idefensible  places  ; great  military  neglect  and 
mismanagement  after  the  outbreak.  Doubt- 
less these  were  in  a military  sense  the  reasons 
for  the  failure  of  an  enterprise  which  cost  the 
revenues  of  India  an  enormous  amount  of 
treasure.  But  the  causes  of  failure  were  deep- 
er than  any  military  errors  could  explain. 
It  is  doubtful  whether  the  genius  of  a Na- 
poleon and  the  forethought  of  a Wellington 
could  have  won  any  permanent  success  for 
an  enterprise  founded  on  so  false  and  fatal  a 
policy.  Nothing  in  the  ability  or  devotion 
of  those  entrusted  with  the  task  of  carrying 
it  out  could  have  made  it  deserve  success. 
Our  first  error  of  principle  was  to  go  com- 
pletely out  of  our  way  for  the  purpose  of 
meeting  mere  speculative  dangers  ; our  next 
and  far  greater  error  was  made  when  we  at- 
tempted, in  the  words  of  Lord  Ellenborough’s 
proclamation,  to  force  a sovereign  upon  a 
reluctant  people. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  REPEAL  TEAR. 

“ The  year  1843,”  said  O’Connell,  “ is  and 
shall  be  the  great  Repeal  year.”  In  the  year 
1843,  at  all  events,  O’Connell  and  his  Repeal 
agitation  are  entitled  to  the  foremost  place. 
The  character  of  the  man  himself  well  de- 
serves some  calm  consideration.  We  are 
now,  perhaps,  in  a condition  to  do  it  justice. 
We  are  far  removed  in  sentiment  and  polit- 
ical association,  if  not  exactly  in  years,  from 
the  time  when  O’Connell  was  the  idol  of  one 
party,  and  the  object  of  all  the  bitterest  scorn 
and  hatred  of  the  other.  No  man  of  his  time 
was  so  madly  worshipped  and  so  fiercely  de- 
nounced. No  man  in  our  time  was  ever  the 
object  of  so  much  abuse  in  the  newspapers. 


The  fiercest  and  coarsest  attacks  that  we  can 
remember  to  have  been  made  in  English 
journals  on  Cobden  and  Bright  during  the 
heat  of  the  Anti-Corn  Law  agitation  seem 
placid,  gentle,  and  almost  complimentary 
when  compared  with  the  criticisms  daily  ap- 
plied to  O’Connell.  The  only  vituperation 
which  could  equal  in  vehemence  and  scurril- 
ity that  poured  out  upon  O’Connell  was  that 
which  O’Connell  himself  poured  out  upon  his 
assailants.  His  hand  was  against  every  man, 
if  every  man’s  hand  was  against  him.  He 
asked  for  no  quarter,  and  he  gave  none. 

We  have  outlived  not  the  times  merely, 
but  the  whole  spirit  of  the  times  so  far  as 
political  controversy  is  concerned.  We  are 
now  able  to  recognize  the  fact  that  a public 
man  may  hold  opinions  which  are  distasteful 
to  the  majority,  and  yet  be  perfecty  sincere 
and  worthy  of  respect.  We  are  well  aware 
that  a man  may  differ  from  us,  even  on  vital 
questions,  and  yet  be  neither  fool  nor  knave. 
But  this  view  of  things  was  not  generally 
taken  in  the  days  of  O’Connell’s  great  agita- 
tion. He  and  his  enemies  alike  acted  in  their 
controversies  on  the  principle  that  a political 
opponent  is  necessarily  a blockhead  or  a 
scoundrel.  It  is  strange  and  somewhat  mel- 
ancholy to  read  the  strictures  of  so  enlight- 
ened a woman  as  Miss  Martineau  upon 
O’Connell.  They  are  all  based  upon  what  a 
humorous  writer  has  called  the  “ fiend-in- 
human-shape theory.  ” Miss  Martineau  not 
merely  assumes  that  O’Connell  was  absolutely 
insincere  and  untrustworthy,  but  discourses 
of  him  on  the  assumption  that  he  was  know- 
ingly and  purposely  a villain.  Not  only  does 
she  hold  that  his  Repeal  agitation  was  an  un- 
qualified evil  for  his  country,  and  that  Re- 
peal, if  gained,  would  have  been  a curse  to 
it,  but  she  insists  that  O’Connell  himself  was 
thoroughly  convinced  of  the  facts.  She  de- 
votes whole  pages  of  lively  and  acrid  argu- 
ment to  prove  not  only  that  O’Connell  was 
ruining  his  country,  but  that  he  knew  he 
was  ruining  it,  and  persevered  in  his  wicked- 
ness out  of  pure  self-seeking.  No  writer  pos- 
sessed of  one-tenth  of  Miss  Martineau ’s  in- 
tellect and  education  would  now  reason  after 
that  fashion  about  any  public  man.  If  there 
is  any  common  delusion  of  past  days  which 
may  be  taken  as  entirely  exploded  now,  it  is 
the  idea  that  any  man  ever  swayed  vast 
masses  of  people,  and  became  the  idol  and 
the  hero  of  a nation,  by  the  strength  of  a 
conscious  hypocrisy  and  imposture. 

O’Connell  in  this  Repeal  year,  as  he  called 
it,  was  by  far  the  most  prominent  politician 
in  these  countries  who  had  never  been  in 
office.  He  had  been  the  patron  of  the  Mel- 
bourne Ministry,  and  his  patronage  had 
proved  baneful  to  it.  One  of  the  great  causes 
of  the  detestation  in  which  the  Melbourne 
Whigs  were  held  by  a vast  number  of  Eng- 
lish people  was  their  alleged  subserviency  to 
the  Irish  agitator.  We  cannot  be  surprised 
if  the  English  public  just  then  was  little  in- 
clined to  take  an  impartial  estimate  of 
O’Connell.  He  had  attacked  some  of  their 
public  men  in  language  of  the  fiercest  denun- 
ciation. He  had  started  an  agitation  which 
seemed  as  if  it  were  directly  meant  to  bring 
about  a break-up  of  the  Imperial  system  so 
lately  completed  by  the  Act  of  Union.  He 
was  opposed  to  the  existence  of  the  State 
Church  in  Ireland.  He  was  the  bitter  enemy 
of  the  Irish  landlord  class — of  the  landlords, 
that  is  to  say,  who  took  their  title  in  any  way 
from  England.  He  was  familiarly  known  in 
the  graceful  controversy  of  the  time  as  the 
“Big  Beggarman.”  It  was  an  article  of 
faith  with  the  general  public  that  he  was  en- 
riching himself  at  the  expense  of  a poor  and 
foolish  people.  It  is  a matter  of  fact  that  he 
had  given  up  a splendid  practice  at  the  bar  to 
carry  on  his  agitation  ; that  he  lost  by  the 
agitation,  pecuniarily,  far  more  than  he  ever 
got  by  it ; that  he  had  not  himself  received 
from  first  to  last  anything  like  the  amount  of 
the  noble  tribute  so  becomingly  and  properly 
given  to  Mr.  Cobden,  and  so  honorably  ac- 


cepted by  him  ; and  that  he  died  poor,  leav- 
ing his  sons  poor.  Indeed,  it  is  a remark- 
able evidence  of  the  purifying  nature  of  any 
great  political  cause,  even  where  the  object 
sought  is  but  a phantom,  that  it  is  hardly 
possible  to  give  a single  instance  of  a great 
political  agitation  carried  on  in  these  coun- 
tries and  in  modern  times  by  leaders  who 
had  any  primary  purpose  of  making  money. 
But  at  that  time  the  general  English  public 
were  firmly  convinced  that  O’Connell  was 
simply  keeping  up  his  agitation  for  the  sake 
of  pocketing  “ the  rent.”  Some  of  the  qual- 
ities, too,  that  specially  endeared  him  to  his 
Celtic  countrymen  made  him  particularly  ob- 
jectionable to  Englishmen  ; and  Englishmen 
have  never  been  famous  for  readiness  to  en- 
ter into  the  feelings  and  accept  the  point  of 
view  of  other  peoples.  O’Connell  was  a 
thorough  Celt.  He  represented  all  the  im- 
pulsiveness, the  quick  - changing  emotions, 
the  passionate,  exaggerated  loves  and  hatreds, 
the  heedlessness  of  statement,  the  tendency 
to  confound  impressions  with  facts,  the  ebul- 
lient humor — all  the  other  qualities  that  are 
especially  characteristic  of  the  Celt.  The 
Irish  people  were  the  audience  to  which 
O’Connell  habitually  played.  It  may  indeed 
be  said  that  even  in  playing  to  this  audience 
he  commonly  played  to  the  gallery.  As  the 
orator  of  a popular  assembly,  as  the  orator 
of  a monster  meeting,  he  probably  never  had 
an  equal  in  these  countries.  He  had  many 
of  the  physical  endowments  that  are  es- 
pecially favorable  to  success  in  such  a sphere. 
He  had  a herculean  frame,  a stately  presence, 
a face  capable  of  expressing  easily  and  effect- 
ively the  most  rapid  alternations  of  mood, 
and  a voice  which  all  hearers  admit  to  have 
been  almost  unrivalled  for  strength  and  sweet- 
ness. Its  power,  its  pathos,  its  passion,  its 
music  have  been  described  in  words  of  posi- 
tive rapture  by  men  who  detested  O’Connell, 
and  who  would  rather,  if  they  could,  have  de- 
nied to  him  any  claim  on  public  attention, 
even  in  the  matter  of  voice.  He  spoke  with- 
out studied  preparation,  and  of  course  had 
all  the  defects  of  such  a style.  He  fell  into 
repetition  and  into  carelessness  of  construc- 
tion ; he  was  hurried  away  into  exaggeration 
and  sometimes  into  mere  bombast.  But  he 
had  all  the  peculiar  success,  too,  which  re- 
wards the  orator  who  can  speak  without  prep- 
aration. He  always  spoke  right  to  the 
hearts  of  his  hearers.  On  the  platform  or  in 
Parliament,  whatever  he  said  was  said  to  his 
audience,  and  was  never  in  the  nature  of  a 
discourse  delivered  over  their  heads.  He  en- 
tered the  House  of  Commons  when  he  was 
nearly  fifty-four  years  of  age.  Most  persons 
supposed  that  the  style  of  speaking  he  had 
formed,  first  in  addressing  juries,  and  next  in 
rousing  Irish  mobs,  must  cause  his  failure 
when  he  came  to  appeal  to  the  unsympa- 
thetic and  fastidious  House  of  Commons. 
But  it  is  certain  that  O’Connell  became  one 
of  the  most  successful  Parliamentary  orators 
of  his  time.  Lord  Jeffrey,  a professional 
critic,  declared  that  all  other  speakers  in  the 
House  seemed  to  him  only  talking  schoolboy- 
talk  after  he  had  heard  O'Connell.  No  man 
we  now  know  of  is  less  likely  to  be  carried 
away  by  any  of  the  claptrap  arts  of  a false 
demagogic  style  than  Mr.  Roebuck  ; and  Mr. 
Roebuck  has  said  that  he  considers  O’Con- 
nell the  greatest  orator  he  ever  heard  in  the 
House  of  Commons.  Charles  Dickens,  when 
a reporter  in  the  gallery,  where  he  had  few 
equals,  if  any,  in  his  craft,  put  down  his  pen- 
cil once  when  engaged  in  reporting  a speech 
of  O’Connell’s  on  one  of  the  tithe  riots  in  Ire- 
land, and  declared  that  he  could  not  take 
notes  of  the  speech,  so  moved  was  he  by  its 
pathos.  Lord  Beaconsfiekl,  who  certainly 
had  no  great  liking  for  O’Connell,  has  spoken 
in  terms  as  high  as  any  one  could  use  about 
his  power  over  the  House.  But  O’Connell’s 
eloquence  only  helped  him  to  make  all  the 
more  enemies  in  the  House  of  Commons. 
He  was  reckless  even  there  in  his  denuncia- 
tion, although  he  took  care  never  to  obtrude 


38 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


on  Parliament  the  extravagant  and  unmean- 
ing abuse  of  opponents  which  delighted  the 
Irish  mob  meetings. 

O’Connell  was  a crafty  and  successful  law- 
yer. The  Irish  peasant,  like  the  Scottish,  is, 
or  at  least  then  was,  remarkably  fond  of  liti- 
gation. He  delighted  in  the  quirks  and  quib- 
bles of  law,  and  in  the  triumphs  won  by  the 
skill  of  lawyers  over  opponents.  He  admired 
O’Connell  all  the  more  when  O’Connell  boast- 
ed and  proved  that  he  could  drive  a,  coach 
and  six  through  any  Act  of  Parliament. 
One  of  the  pet  heroes  of  Irish  legend  is  a per- 
sonage whose  cleverness  and  craft  procure 
for  him  a sobriquet  which  has  been  rendered 
into  English  by  the  words  “ twists  upon 
twists  and  tricks  upon  tricks.”  O’Connell 
was  in  the  eyes  of  many  of  the  Irish  peasantry 
an  embodiment  of  ‘ ‘ twists  upon  twists  and 
tricks  upon  tricks,”  enlisted  in  their  cause 
for  the  confusion  of  their  adversaries.  He 
had  borne  the  leading  part  in  carrying  Cath- 
olic emancipation.  He  had  encountered  all 
the  danger  and  responsibility  of  the  some- 
what aggressive  movement  by  which  it  was 
finally  secured.  It  is  true  that  it  was  a re- 
form which  in  the  course  of  civilization  must 
have  been  carried.  It  had  in  its  favor  all 
the  enlightenment  of  the  time.  The  elo- 
quence of  the  greatest  orators,  the  intellect 
of  the  truest  philosophers,  the  prescience  of 
the  wisest  statesmen  had  pleaded  for  it  and 
helped  to  make  its  way  clear.  No  one  can 
doubt  that  it  must  in  a short  time  have  been 
carried  if  O’Connell  had  never  lived.  But 
it  was  carried  just  then  by  virtue  of  O’Con- 
nell’s bold  agitation  and  by  the  wise  resolve 
of  the  Tory  Government  not  to  provoke  a 
civil  war.  It  is  deeply  to  be  regretted  that 
Catholic  emancipation  was  not  conceded  to 
the  claims  of  justice.  Had  it  been  so  yielded, 
it  is  very  doubtful  whether  we  should  ever 
have  heard  much  of  the  Repeal  agitation. 
But  the  Irish  people  saw,  and  indeed  all  the 
world  was  made  aware  of  the  fact,  that 
emancipation  would  not  have  been  conceded,  • 
just  then  at  least,  but  for  the  fear  of  civil  dis- 
turbance. To  an  Englishman  looking  coolly 
back  from  a distance,  the  difference  is  clear 
between  granting  to-day,  rather  than  provoke 
disturbance,  that  which  every  one  sees  must 
be  granted  some  time,  and  conceding  what 
the  vast  majority  of  the  English  people  be- 
lieve can  never  with  propriety  or  even  safety 
be  granted  at  all.  But  we  can  hardly  won- 
der if  the  Irish  peasant  did  not  make  such 
distinctions.  All  he  knew  was  that  O’Con- 
nell had  demanded  Catholic  emancipation, 
and  had  been  answered  at  first  by  a direct 
refusal ; that  he  had  said  he  would  compel 
its  concession,  and  that  in  the  end  it  was 
conceded  to  him.  When,  therefore,  O’Con- 
nell said  that  he  would  compel  the  Govern- 
ment to  give  him  repeal  of  the  Union,  the 
Irish  peasant  naturally  believed  that  he 
could  keep  his  word. 

Nor  is  there  any  reason  to  doubt  that 
O’Connell  himself  believed  in  the  possibility 
of  accomplishing  his  purpose.  We  are  apt 
now  to  think  of  the  union  between  England 
and  Ireland  as  of  time-honored  endurance. 
It  had  been  scarcely  thirty  years  in  existence 
when  O’Connell  entered  Parliament.  The 
veneration  of  ancient  lineage,  the  majesty  of 
custom,  the  respect  due  to  the  “ wisdom  of 
our  ancestors” — none  of  these  familiar  claims 
could  be  urged  on  behalf  of  the  legislative 
union  between  England  and  Ireland.  To 
O’Connell  it  appeared  simply  as  a modern 
innovation  which  had  nothing  to  be  said  for 
it  except  that  a majority  of  Englishmen  had 
by  threats  and  bribery  forced  it  on  a majority 
of  Irishmen.  Mr.  Lecky,  the  author  of  the 
“ History  of  European  Morals,”  may  be  cited 
as  an  impartial  authority  on  such  a subject. 
Let  us  see  what  he  says  in  his  work  on  “ The 
Leaders  of  Public  Opinion  in  Ireland,”  with 
regard  to  the  movement  for  repeal  of  the 
Union,  of  which  it  seems  almost  needless  to 
say  he  disapproves.  “O’Connell  perceived 
clearly,”  says  Mr.  Lecky,  “ that  the  tendency 


of  affairs  in  Europe  was  towards  the  recog- 
nition of  the  principle  that  a nation’s  will  is 
the  one  legitimate  rule  of  its  government. 
All  rational  men  acknowledged  that  the  Union 
was  imposed  on  Ireland  by  corrupt  means, 
contrary  to  the  wish  of  one  generation. 
O’Connell  was  prepared  to  show,  by  the  pro- 
test of  the  vast  majority  of  the  people,  that  it 
was  retained  without  the  acquiescence  of  the 
next.  He  had  allied  himself  with  the  parties 
that  were  rising  surely  and  rapidly  to  power 
in  England  — with  the  democracy,  whose 
gradual  progress  is  effacing  the  most  vener- 
able landmarks  of  the  Constitution — with  the 
Free  Traders,  whose  approaching  triumph 
he  had  hailed  and  exulted  in  from  afar.  He 
had  perceived  the  possibility  of  forming  a 
powerful  party  in  Parliament,  which  would 
be  free  to  co-operate  with  all  English  parties 
without  coalescing  with  any,  and  might  thus 
turn  the  balance  of  factions  and  decide  the 
fate  of  Ministries.  He  saw,  too,  that  while 
England  in  a time  of  peace  might  resist  the 
expressed  will  of  the  Irish  nation,  its  policy 
would  be  necessarily  modified  in  time  of 
war  ; and  he  predicted  that  should  there  be 
a collision  with  France  while  the  nation  was 
organized  as  in  1843,  Repeal  would  be  the 
inunediate  and  the  inevitable  consequence. 
In  a word,  he  believed  that  under  a constitu- 
tional government  the  will  of  four  fifths  of  a 
nation,  if  peacefully,  perseveringly,  and  ener- 
getically expressed,  must  sooner  or  later  be 
triumphant.  If  a war  had  broken  out  during 
the  agitation — if  the  life  of  O’Connell  had 
been  prolonged  ten  years  longer— if  any 
worthy  successor  had  assumed  his  mantle — 
if  a fearful  famine  had  not  broken  the  spirit 
of  the  people — who  can  say  that  the  agitation 
would  not  have  been  successful  ?”  No  one, 
we  fancy,  except  those  who  are  always  con- 
vinced that  nothing  can  ever  come  to  pass 
which  they  think  ought  not  to  come  to  pass. 
At  all  events,  if  an  English  political  philoso- 
pher, surveying  the  events  after  a distance 
of  thirty  years,  is  of  opinion  that  Repeal  was 
possible,  it  is  not  surprising  that  O’Connell 
thought  its  attainment  possible  at  the  time 
when  he  set  himself  to  agitate  for  it.  Even 
if  this  be  not  conceded,  it  will  at  least  be  al- 
lowed that  it  is  not  very  surprising  if  the  Irish 
peasant  saw  no  absurdity  in  the  movement. 
Our  system  of  government  by  party  does  not 
lay  claim  to  absolute  perfection.  It  is  an  ex- 
cellent mechanism  on  the  whole  ; it  is  prob- 
ably the  most  satisfactory  that  the  wit  of 
man  has  yet  devised  for  the  management  of 
the  affairs  of  a state  ; but  its  greatest  ad- 
mirers will  bear  to  be  told  that  it  has  its 
drawbacks  and  disadvantages.  One  of  these 
undoubtedly  is  found  in  the  fact  that  so  few 
reforms  are  accomplished  in  deference  to  the 
claims  of  justice,  in  comparison  with  those 
that  are  yielded  to  the  pressure  of  numbers. 
A great  English  statesman  in  our  own  day 
once  said  that  Parliament  had  done  many 
just  things,  but  few  things  because  they 
were  just.  O’Connell  and  the  Irish  people 
saw  that  Catholic  emancipation  had  been 
yielded  to  pressure  rather  than  to  justice  ; it 
is  not  wonderful  if  they  thought  that  pressure 
might  prevail  as  well  in  the  matter  of  Repeal. 

in  many  respects  O’Connell  differed  from 
more  modern  Irish  Nationalists.  He  was  a 
thorough  Liberal.  He  was  a devoted  oppo- 
nent of  negro  slavery  ; he  was  a staunch 
Free  Trader  ; he  was  a friend  of  popular  ed- 
ucation ; he  was  an  enemy  to  all  excess  ; he 
was  opposed  to  strikes  ; he  was  an  advocate 
of  religious  equality  everywhere  ; and  he  de- 
clined to  receive  the  commands  of  the  Vati- 
can in  his  political  agitation.  ‘ ‘ I am  a Cath- 
olic, but  I am  not  a Papist,”  was  his  own 
definition  of  his  religious  attitude.  He 
preached  the  doctrine  of  constitutional  agita- 
tion strictly,  and  declared  that  no  political 
Reform  was  worth  the  shedding  of  one  drop 
of  blood.  It  may  be  asked  how  it  came 
about  that  with  all  these  excellent  attributes, 
which  all  critics  now  allow  to  him,  O’Connell 
was  so  detested  by  the  vast  majority  of  the 


English  people.  One  reason  undoubtedly  is 
that  O’Connell  deliberately  revived  and  work- 
ed up  for  his  political  purposes  the  almost 
extinct  national  hatreds  of  Celt  and  Saxon. 
As  a phrase  of  political  controversy,  he  may 
be  said  to  have  invented  the  word  “ Saxon.” 
He  gave  a terrible  license  to  his  tongue.  His 
abuse  was  outrageous  ; his  praise  was  out- 
rageous. The  very  effusiveness  of  his  loyalty 
told  to  his  disadvantage.  People  could  not 
understand  how  one  who  perpetually  de- 
nounced “ the  Saxon”  could  be  so  enthusias- 
tic and  rapturous  in  his  professions  of  loyalty 
to  the  Saxon’s  Queen.  In  the  common 
opinion  of  Englishmen,  all  the  evils  of  Ire- 
land, all  the  troubles  attaching  to  the  connec- 
tion between  the  two  countries,  had  arisen 
from  this  unmitigated,  rankling  hatred  of 
Celt  for  Saxon.  It  was  impossible  for  them 
to  believe  that  a man  who  deliberately  applied 
all  the  force  of  his  eloquence  to  revive  it 
could  be  a genuine  patriot.  It  appeared  in- 
tolerable that  while  thus  laboring  to  make 
the  Celt  hate  the  Saxon  he  should  yet  profess 
an  extravagant  devotion  to  the  Sovereign  of 
England.  Yet  O’Connell  was  probably  quite 
sincere  in  his  professions  of  loyalty.  He  was 
in  no  sense  a revolutionist.  He  had  from  his 
education  in  a French  college  acquired  an 
early  detestation  of  the  principles  of  the 
French  Revolution.  Of  the  Irish  rebels  of 
’98  he  spoke  with  as  savage  an  intolerance  as 
the  narrowest  English  Tories  could  show  in 
speaking  of  himself.  The  Tones,  and  Em- 
metts, and  Fitzgeralds,  whom  so  many  of  the 
Irish  people  adored,  were,  in  O’Connell’s 
eyes,  and  in  his  words,  only  “ a gang  of  mis- 
creants.” He  grew  angry  at  the  slightest 
expression  of  an  opinion  among  his  followers 
that  seemed  to  denote  even  a willingness  to 
discuss  any  of  the  doctrines  of  Communism. 
His  theory  and  his  policy  evidently  were  that 
Ireland  was  to  be  saved  by  a dictatorship 
entrusted  to  himself,  with  the  Irish  priesthood 
acting  as  his  officers  and  agents.  He  main- 
tained the  authority  of  the  priests  and  his 
own  authority  by  means  of  them  and  over 
them.  The  political  system  of  the  country 
for  the  purposes  of  agitation  was  to  be  a sort 
of  hierarchy  ; the  parish  priests  occupying 
the  lowest  grade,  the  bishops  standing  on 
the  higher  steps,  and  O’Connell  himself  su- 
preme as  the  pontiff  over  all. 

He  had  a Parliamentary  system  by  means 
of  which  he  proposed  to  approach  more  di- 
rectly the  question  of  repeal  of  the  Union. 
He  got  seats  in  the  House  of  Commons  for  a 
number  of  his  sons,  his  nephews,  and  his 
sworn  retainers.  “ O’Connell’s  tail  ” was 
the  precursor  of  “ the  Pope’s  Brass  Band  ” 
in  the  slang  of  the  House  of  Commons.  He 
had  an  almost  supreme  control  over  the  Irish 
constituencies,  and  whenever  a vacancy 
took  place  he  sent  down  the  Repeal  candi- 
date to  contest  it.  He  always  inculcated 
and  insisted  on  the  necessity  of  order  and 
peace.  Indeed,  as  he  proposed  to  carry  on 
his  agitation  altogether  by  the  help  of  the 
bishops  and  the  priests,  it  was  not  possible 
for  him,  even  were  he  so  inclined,  to  con- 
duct it  on  any  other  than  peaceful  principles. 
“ The  man  who  commits  a crime  gives 
strength  to  the  enemy,”  was  a maxim  which 
he  was  never  weary  of  impressing  upon  his 
followers.  The  Temperance  movement  set 
on  foot  with  such  remarkable  and  sudden 
success  by  Father  Mathew  was  at  once  turned 
to  account  by  O’Connell.  He  was  himself, 
in  his  later  years  at  all  events,  a very  temper- 
ate man,  and  he  was  delighted  at  the  pros- 
pect of  good  order  and  discipline  which  the 
Temperance  movement  afforded.  Father 
Mathew  was  very  far  from  sharing  all  the 
political  opinions  of  O’Connell.  The  sweet 
and  simple  friar,  whose  power  was  that  of 
goodness  and  enthusiasm  only,  and  who  had 
but  little  force  of  character  or  intellect, 
shrank  from  political  agitation,  and  was 
rather  Conservative  than  otherwise  in  his 
views.  But  he  could  not  afford  to  repudiate 
the  support  of  O’Connell,  who  on  all  occa- 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


39 


eions  glorified  the  Temperance  movement, 
and  called  upon  his  followers  to  join  it,  and 
was  always  boasting  of  his  “ noble  army  of 
Teetotalers.”  It  was  probably  when  he 
found  that  the  mere  fact  of  his  having  sup- 
ported the  Melbourne  Government  did  so 
much  to  discredit  that  Government  in  the 
eyes  of  Englishmen,  and  to  bring  about  its 
fall,  that  O’Connell  went  deliberately  out  of 
the  path  of  mere  Parliamentary  agitation, 
and  started  that  system  of  agitation  by  mon- 
ster meeting  which  has  since  his  time  been 
regularly  established  among  us  as  a principal 
part  of  all  political  organization  for  a definite 
purpose.  He  founded  in  Dublin  a Repeal 
Association  which  met  in  a place  on  Burgh 
Quay,  and  which  he  styled  Conciliation 
Hall.  Arouud  him  in  this  Association  he 
gathered  his  sons,  his  relatives,  his  devoted 
followers,  priestly  and  lay.  The  Nation 
newspaper,  then  in  its  youth  and  full  of  a 
fresh  literary  vigor,  was  one  of  his  most 
brilliant  instruments.  At  a later  period  of 
the  agitation  it  was  destined  to  be  used 
against  him,  and  with  severe  effect.  The 
famous  monster  meetings  were  usually  held 
on  a Sunday,  on  some  open  spot,  mostly  se- 
lected for  its  historic  fame,  and  with  all  the 
picturesque  surroundings  of  hill  and  stream. 
From  the  dawn  of  the  summer  day  the  Re- 
pealers were  thronging  to  the  scene  of  the 
meeting.  They  came  from  all  parts  of  the 
neighboring  country  for  miles  and  miles. 
They  were  commonly  marshalled  and  guided 
by  their  parish  priests.  They  all  attended 
the  services  of  their  Church  before  the  meet- 
ing began.  The  influence  of  his  religion  and 
of  his  patriotic  feelings  was  brought  to  bear 
at  once  upon  the  impressionable  and  emo- 
tional Irish  Celt.  At  the  meeting  O’Connell 
and  several  of  his  chosen  orators  addressed 
the  crowd  on  the  subject  of  the  wrongs  done 
to  Ireland  by  ‘ ‘ the  Saxon,  ’ ’ the  claims  of  Ire- 
land to  the  restoration  of  her  old  Parliament 
in  College  Green,  and  the  certainty  of  her 
having  it  restored  if  Irishmen  only  obeyed 
O’Connell  and  their  priests,  were  sober,  and 
displayed  their  strength  and  their  unity. 

O’Connell  himself,  it  is  needless  to  say, 
was  always  the  great  orator  of  the  day.  The 
agitation  developed  a great  deal  of  literary 
talent  among  the  younger  men  of  education  ; 
but  it  never  brought  out  a man  who  was 
even  spoken  of  as  a possible  successor  to 
O’Connell  in  eloquence.  His  magnificent 
voice  enabled  him  to  do  what  no  genius  and 
no  eloquence  less  aptly  endowed  could  have 
done.  He  could  send  his  lightest  word  thrill- 
ing to  the  extreme  of  the  vast  concourse  of 
people  whom  he  desired  to  move.  He  swayed 
them  with  the  magic  of  an  absolute  control. 
He  understood  all  the  moods  of  his  people  ; 
to  address  himself  to  them  came  naturally  to 
him.  He  made  them  roar  with  laughter  ; he 
made  them  weep  ; he  made  them  thrill  with 
indignation.  As  the  shadow  runs  over  a 
field,  so  the  impression  of  his  varying  elo- 
quence ran  over  the  assemblage.  He  com- 
manded the  emotions  of  his  hearers  as  a con- 
summate conductor  sways  the  energies  of  his 
orchestra.  Every  allusion  told.  When,  in 
one  of  the  meetings  held  in  his  native  Kerry, 
he  turned  solemnly  round  and  appealed  to 
“ yonder  blue  mountains  where  you  and  I 
were  cradled  or  in  sight  of  the  objects  he 
described  he  apostrophized  Ireland  as  the 
“ land  of  the  green  valley  and  the  rushing 
river” — an  admirably  characteristic  and  com- 
plete description  ; or  recalled  some  historical 
association  connected  with  the  scene  he  sur- 
veyed— each  was  some  special  appeal  to  the 
instant  feelings  of  his  peculiar  audience. 
Sometimes  he  indulged  in  the  grossest  and 
what  ought  to  have  been  the  most  ridiculous 
flattery  of  his  hearers — flattery  which  would 
have  offended  and  disgusted  the  dullest  Eng- 
lish audience.  But  the  Irish  peasant,  with 
all  his  keen  sense  of  the  ridiculous  in  others, 
is  singularly  open  to  the  influence  of  any  ap- 
peal to  his  own  vanity.  There  is  a great 
deal  of  the  “ eternal-womanly”  in  the  Celtic 


nature,  and  it  is  not  easy  to  overflatter  one 
of  the  race.  Doubtless  O’Connell  knew  this 
and  acted  purposely  on  it ; and  this  was  a 
peculiarity  of  his  political  conduct  which  it 
would  be  hard  indeed  to  commend  or  even  to 
defend.  But  in  truth  he  adopted  in  his  agi- 
tation the  tactics  he  had  employed  at  the 
bar.  “ A good  speech  is  a good  thing,”  he 
used  to  say  ; “ but  the  verdict  is  the  thing.” 
His  flattery  of  his  hearers  was  not  grosser 
than  his  abuse  of  all  those  whom  they  did 
not  like.  Ilis  dispraise  often  had  absolutely 
no  meaning  in  it.  There  was  no  sense  what- 
ever in  calling  the  Duke  of  Wellington  “ a 
stunted  corporal one  might  as  well  have 
called  Mont  Blanc  a molehill.  Nobody  could 
have  shown  more  clearly  than  O’Connell  did 
that  he  did  not  believe  the  Times  to  be  “ an 
obscure  rag.”  It  would  have  been  as 
humorous  and  as  truthful  to  say  that  there 
was  no  such  paper  as  the  Times.  But  these 
absurdities  made  an  ignorant  audience  laugh 
for  the  moment,  and  O’Connell  had  gained 
the  only  point  he  just  then  wanted  to  carry. 
He  would  probably  have  answered  any  one 
who  remonstrated  with  him  on  the  disin- 
genuousness  of  such  sayings,  as  Mrs.  Thrale 
says  Burke  once  answered  her  when  she 
taxed  him  with  a want  of  literal  accuracy,  by 
quoting,  “ Odds  life,  must  one  swear  to  the 
truth  of  a song?”  But  this  recklessness  of 
epithet  and  description  did  much  to  make 
O’Connell  distrusted  and  disliked  in  Eng- 
land, where,  in  whatever  heat  of  political  con- 
troversy, words  are  supposed  to  be  the  expres- 
sions of  some  manner  of  genuine  sentiment. 
Of  course  many  of  O’Connell’s  abusive  epi- 
thets were  not  only  full  of  humor,  but  did  to 
some  extent  fairly  represent  the  weaknesses 
at  least  of  those  against  whom  they  were  di- 
rected. Some  of  his  historical  allusions  were 
of  a more  mischievous  nature  than  any  mere 
personalities  could  have  been.  “ Peel  and 
Wellington,”  he  said  at  Kilkenny,  ‘‘maybe 
second  Cromwells  ; they  may  get  Cromwell’s 
blunted  truncheon,  and  they  may — oh,  sacred 
heavens  ! — enact  on  the  fair  occupants  of 
that  gallery  ’’(pointing  to  the  ladies’  gallery), 
“ the  murder  of  the  Wexford  women.  Let 
it  not  be  supposed  that  when  I made  that  ap- 
peal to  the  ladies  it  was  but  a flight  of  my 
imagination.  No  ! when  Cromwell  entered 
the  town  of  Wexford  by  treachery,  three 
hundred  ladies,  the  beauty  and  loveliness  of 
Wexford,  the  young  and  the  old,  the  maid 
and  the  matron,  were  collected  round  the 
Cross  of  Christ ; they  prayed  to  heaven  for 
mercy,  and  I hope  they  found  it ; they  prayed 
to  the  English  for  humanity,  and  Cromwell 
slaughtered  them.  I tell  you  this  : three 
hundred  women,  the  grace  and  beauty  and 
virtue  of  Wexford,  were  slaughtered  by  the 
English  ruffians — sacred  heaven  1”  He  went 
on  then  to  assure  his  hearers  that  “ the 
ruffianly  Saxon  paper,  the  Times,  in  the  num- 
ber received  by  me  to-day,  presumes  to  threat- 
en us  again  with  such  a scene.”  One  would 
like  to  see  the  copy  of  the  Times  which  con- 
tained such  a threat,  or  indeed  any  words 
that  could  be  tortured  into  a semblance  of 
any  such  hideous  meaning.  But  the  great 
agitator,  when  he  found  that  he  had  excited 
enough  the  horror  of  his  audience,  proceeded 
to  reassure  them  by  the  means  of  all  others 
most  objectionable  and  dangerous  at  such  a 
time.  "I  am  not  imaginative,”  he  said, 
“ when  I talk  of  the  possibility  of  such  scenes 
anew  ; but  yet  I assert  that  there  is  no  dan- 
ger to  our  women  now,  for  the  men  of  Ire- 
land would  die  to  the  last  in  their  defence.” 
Here  the  whole  meeting  broke  into  a storm 
of  impassioned  cheering.  “ Ay,”  the  orator 
exclaimed,  when  the  storm  found  a momen- 
tary hush,  “ we  were  a paltry  remnant  then  ; 
we  are  millions  now.”  At  Mullaghmast, 
O’Connell  made  an  impassioned  allusion  to 
the  massacre  of  Irish  chieftains,  said  to  have 
taken  place  on  that  very  spot  in  the  reign  of 
Queen  Elizabeth.  “ Three  hundred  and 
ninety  Irish  chiefs  perished  here  ! They 
came,  confiding  in  Saxon  honor,  relying  on 


the  protection  of  the  Queen,  to  a friendly 
conference.  In  the  midst  of  reveliy,  in  the 
cheerful  light  of  the  banquet  house,  they 
were  surrounded  and  butchered.  None  re- 
turned save  one.  Their  wives  were  widows, 
their  children  fatherless.  In  their  home- 
steads was  heard  the  shrill  shriek  of  despair 
— the  cry  of  bitter  agony.  Oh,  Saxon 
cruelty,  how  it  cheers  my  heart  to  think  that 
you  dare  not  attempt  such  a deed  again  !” 
It  is  not  necessary  to  point  out  what  the 
effect  of  such  descriptions  and  such  allusions 
must  have  been  upon  an  excitable  and  an 
ignorant  peasant  audience  — on  men  who 
were  ready  to  believe  in  all  sincerity  that 
England  only  wanted  the  opportunity  to  re- 
enact in  the  reign  of  Queen  Victoria  the 
scenes  of  Elizabeth’s  or  Cromwell’s  day. 

The  late  Lord  Lytton  has  given,  in  his 
poem  “ St.  Stephens,”  a picturesque  descrip- 
tion of  one  of  these  meetings,  and  of  the 
effect  produced  upon  himself  by  O’Connell’s 
eloquence.  “ Once  to  my  sight,”  he  says, 
“ the  giant  thus  was  given  ; walled  by  wide 
air  and  roofed  by  boundless  heaven.”  He 
describes  “ the  human  ocean”  lying  spread 
out  at  the  giant’s  feet ; its  “ wave  on  wave” 
flowing  “into  space  away.”  Not  unnat- 
urally, Lord  Lytton  thought  “ no  clarion 
could  have  sent  its  sound  even  to  the  centre” 
of  that  crowd. 

And  as  I thought,  rose  the  sonorous  swell 
As  from  some  church  tower  swings  the  silvery  hell ; 
Aloft  and  clear  from  airy  tide  to  tide, 

It  glided  easy  as  a bird  may  glide. 

To 'the  last  verge  of  that  vast  audience  sent, 

It  played  with  each  wild  passion  as  it  went ; 

Now  stirred  the  uproar— now  the  murmur  stilled, 
And  sobs  or  laughter  answered  as  it  willed. 

Then  did  I know  what  spells  of  infinite  choice 
To  rouse  or  lull  has  the  sweet  human  voice. 

Then  did  I learn  to  seize  the  sudden  clue 
To  the  grand  troublous  life  antique— to  view, 

Under  the  rock-stand  of  Demosthenes, 

Unstable  Athens  heave  her  noisy  seas. 

The  crowds  who  attended  the  monster 
meetings  came  in  a sort  of  military  order  and 
with  a certain  parade  of  military  discipline. 
At  the  meeting  held  on  the  Hill  of  Tara, 
where  O’Connell  stood  beside  the  stone  said 
to  have  been  used  for  the  coronation  of  the 
ancient  monarchs  of  Ireland,  it  is  declared 
on  the  authority  of  careful  and  unsympa- 
thetic witnesses  that  a quarter  of  a million  of 
people  must  have  been  present.  The  Gov- 
ernment naturally  felt  that  there  was  a veiy 
considerable  danger  in  the  massing  together 
of  such  vast  crowds  of  men  in  something  like 
military  array  and  under  the  absolute  leader- 
ship of  one  man,  who  openly  avowed  that  he 
had  called  them  together  to  show  England 
what  was  the  strength  her  statesmen  would 
have  to  fear  if  they  continued  to  deny  Repeal 
to  his  demand.  It  is  certain  now  that 
O’Connell  did  not  at  any  time  mean  to  employ 
force  for  the  attainment  of  his  ends.  But  it 
is  equally  certain  that  he  wished  the  English 
Government  to  see  that  he  had  the  command 
of  an  immense  number  of  men,  and  probably 
even  to  believe  that  he  would,  if  needs  were, 
hurl  them  in  rebellion  upon  England  if  ever 
she  should  be  embarrassed  with  a foreign 
war.  It  is  certain,  too,  that  many  of 
O’Connell’s  most  ardent  admirers,  especially 
among  the  young  men,  were  fully  convinced 
that  some  day  or  other  their  leader  would 
call  on  thgm  to  fight,  and  were  much  disap- 
pointed when  they  found  that  he  had  no  such 
intention.  The  Government  at  last  resolved 
to  interfere.  A meeting  was  announced  to 
be  held  at  Clontarf  on  Sunday,  October  8, 
1843.  Clontarf  is  near  Dublin,  and  is  famous 
in  Irish  history  as  the  scene  of  a great  vic- 
tory of  the  Irish  over  their  Danish  invaders. 
It  was  intended  that  this  meeting  should  sur- 
pass in  numbers  and  in  earnestness  the  as- 
semblage at  Tara.  On  the  very  day  before 
the  8tli  the  Lord  Lieutenant  issued  a proc- 
lamation prohibiting  the  meeting  as  “ calcu- 
lated to  excite  reasonable  and  well-grounded 
apprehension,”  in  that  its  object  was  “to  ac- 
complish alterations  in  the  laws  and  constitu- 
tion of  the  realm  by  intimidation  and  the  de- 


40 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


monstration  of  physical  force. ” O’Connell’s 
power  over  the  people  was  never  shown 
more  effectively  than  in  the  control  which  at 
that  critical  moment  he  was  still  able  to  ex- 
ercise. The  populations  were  already  com- 
ing in  to  Clontarf  in  streams  from  all  the 
country  round  when  the  proclamation  of  the 
Lord-Lieutenant  was  issued.  No  doubt  the 
Irish  Government  ran  a terrible  risk  when 
they  delayed  so  long  the  issue  of  their  proc- 
lamation. With  the  people  already  assem- 
bling in  such  masses,  the  risk  of  a collision 
with  the  police  and  the  soldiery,  and  of  a 
consequent  massacre,  is  something  still 
shocking  to  contemplate.  It  is  not  surpris- 
ing, perhaps,  if  O’Connell  and  many  of  his 
followers  made  it  a charge  against  the  Gov- 
ernment that  they  intended  to  bring  about 
such  a collision  in  order  to  make  an  example 
of  some  of  the  Repealers  and  thus  strike  ter- 
ror through  the  country.  Some  sort  of  col- 
lision would  almost  undoubtedly  have  occur- 
red hut  for  the  promptitude  of  O’Connell 
himself.  He  at  once  issued  a proclamation 
of  his  own  to  which  the  populations  were  like- 
ly to  pay  far  more  attention  than  they  would 
to  anything  coming  from  Dublin  Castle. 
O’Connell  declared  that  the  orders  of  the 
Lord-Lieutenant  must  be  obeyed  ; that  the 
meeting  must  not  take  place  ; and  that  the 
people  must  return  to  their  homes.  The 
“ uncrowned  king,”  as  some  of  his  admirers 
loved  to  call  him,  was  obeyed,  and  no  meet- 
ing was  held. 

From  that  moment,  however,  the  great 
power  of  the  Repeal  agitation  was  gone. 
The  Government  had  accomplished  far  more 
by  their  proclamation  than  they  could  possi- 
bly have  imagined  at  the  time.  They  had, 
without  knowing  it,  compelled  O’Connell  to 
show  his  hand.  It  was  now  made  clear  that 
he  did  not  intend  to  have  resort  to  force. 
From  that  hour  there  was  virtually  a schism 
between  the  elder  Repealers  and  the  younger. 
The  young  and  fiery  followers  of  the  great 
agitator  lost  all  faith  in  him.  It  would  in 
any  case  have  been  impossible  to  maintain 
for  any  very  long  time  the  state  of  national 
tension  in  which  Ireland  had  been  kept.  It 
must  soon  come  either  to  a climax  or  to  an 
anti-climax.  It  came  to  an  anti-climax.  All 
the  imposing  demonstrations  of  physical 
strength  lost  their  value  when  it  was  made 
positively  known  that  they  were  only  dem- 
onstrations, and  that  nothing  was  ever  to 
come  of  them.  The  eye  of  an  attentive  for- 
eigner was  then  fixed  on  Ireland  and  on 
O’Connell ; the  eye  of  one  destined  to  play  a 
part  in  the  political  history  of  our  time  which 
none  other  has  surpassed.  Count  Cavour  had 
not  long  returned  to  his  own  country  from  a 
visit  made  with  the  express  purpose  of  study- 
ing the  politics  and  the  general  condition  of 
England  and  Ireland.  He  wrote  to  a friend 
about  the  crisis  then  passing  in  Ireland. 
“When  one  is  at  a distance,”  he  said, 
‘‘from  the  theatre  of  events,  it  is  easy  to 
make  prophecies  which  have  already  been 
contradicted  by  facts.  But  according. to  my 
view  O’Connell’s  fate  is  sealed.  On  the  first 
vigorous  demonstration  of  his  opponents  he 
has  drawn  back  ; from  that  moment  he  has 
ceased  to  be  dangerous.”  Cavour  was  per- 
fectly right.  It  was  never  again  possible  to 
bring  the  Irish  people  up  to  the  pitch  of  en- 
thusiasm which  O’Connell  had  wrought  them 
to  before  the  suppression  of  the  Clontarf 
meeting  ; and  before  long  the  Irish  national 
movement  had  split  in  two. 

The  Government  at  once  proceeded  to  the 
prosecution  of  O’Connell  and  some  of  his 
principal  associates.  Daniel  O’Connell  him- 
self, his  son  John,  the  late  Sir  John  Gray, 
and  Sir  Charles  Gavan  Duffy,  were  the  most 
conspicuous  of  those  against  whom  the  pros- 
ecution was  directed.  They  were  charged 
with  conspiring  to  raise  and  excite  disaffec- 
tion among  her  Majesty’s  subjects,  to  excite 
them  to  hatred  and  contempt  of  the  Govern- 
ment and  Constitution  of  the  realm.  The 
trial  was  in  many  ways  a singularly  unfor- 


tunate proceeding.  The  Government  prose- 
cutor objected  to  all  the  Catholics  whose 
names  were  called  as  jurors.  An  error  of  the 
sheriff’s  in  the  construction  of  the  jury-lists 
had  already  reduced  by  a considerable  num- 
ber the  roll  of  Catholics  entitled  to  serve  on 
juries.  It  therefore  happened  that  the  great- 
est of  Irish  Catholics,  the  representative 
Catholic  of  his  day,  the  principal  agent  in 
the  work  of  carrying  Catholic  Emancipation, 
was  tried  by  a jury  composed  exclusively  of 
Protestants.  It  has  only  to  be  added  that 
this  was  done  in  the  metropolis  of  a country 
essentially  Catholic  ; a country  five-sixths  of 
whose  people  were  Catholics ; and  on  a 
question  affecting  indirectly,  if  not  directly, 
the  whole  position  and  claims  of  Catholics. 
The  trial  was  long.  O’Connell  defended 
himself  ; and  his  speech  was  universally  re- 
garded as  wanting  the  power  that  had  made 
his  defence  of  others  so  effective  in  former 
days.  It  was  for  the  most  part  a sober  and 
somewhat  heavy  argument  to  prove  that  Ire- 
land had  lost  instead  of  gained  by  her  union 
with  England.  The  jury  found  O’Connell 
guilty  along  with  most  of  his  associates,  and 
he  was  sentenced  to  twelve  months’  im- 
prisonment and  a fine  of  2000Z.  The  others 
received  lighter  sentences.  O’Connell  ap- 
pealed to  the  House  of  Lords  against  the 
sentence.  In  the  meantime  he  issued  a proc- 
lamation to  the  Irish  people  commanding 
them  to  keep  perfectly  quiet  and  not  to  com- 
mit any  offence  against  the  law.  ‘ ‘ Every 
man,”  said  one  of  his  proclamations,  “ wrho  is 
guilty  of  the  slightest  breach  of  the  peace  is 
an  enemy  of  me  and  of  Ireland.”  The  Irish 
people  took  him  at  his  word  and  remained 
perfectly  quiet. 

O’Connell  and  his  principal  associates  were 
committed  to  Richmond  Prison,  in  Dublin. 
The  trial  had  been  delayed  in  various  ways, 
and  the  sentence  was  not  pronounced  until 
May  24,  1844.  The  appeal  to  the  House  of 
Lords — we  may  pass  over  intermediate  stages 
of  procedure — was  heard  in  the  following 
September.  Five  law  lords  were  present. 
The  Lord  Chancellor  (Lord  Lyndhurst)  and 
Lord  Brougham  were  of  opinion  that  the 
sentence  of  the  court  below  should  be  affirm- 
ed. Lord  Denman,  Lord  Cottenham,  and 
Lord  Campbell  were  of  the  opposite  opinion. 
Lord  Denman,  in  particular,  condemned  the 
manner  in  which  the  jury-lists  had  been  pre- 
pared. Some  of  his  words  on  the  occasion 
became  memorable,  and  passed  into  a sort  of 
proverbial  expression.  Such  practices,  he 
said,  would  make  of  the  law  “ a mockery,  a 
delusion,  and  a snare.”  A strange  and  mem- 
orable scene  followed.  The  constitution  of 
the  House  of  Lords  then  and  for  long  after 
made  no  difference  between  law  lords  and 
others  in  voting  on  a question  of  appeal.  As 
a matter  of  practice  and  of  fairness  the  lay 
peers  hardly  ever  interfered  in  the  voting  on 
an  appeal.  But  they  had  an  undoubted  right 
to  do  so  ; and  it  is  even  certain  that  in  one  or 
two  peculiar  cases  they  had  exercised  the 
right.  If  the  lay  lords  were  to  vote  in  this 
instance,  the  fate  of  O’Connell  and  his  com- 
panions could  not  be  doubtful.  O’Connell 
had  always  been  the  bitter  enemy  of  the 
House  of  Lords.  He  had  vehemently  de- 
nounced its  authority,  its  practices,  and  its 
leading  members.  Nor  if  the  lay  peers  had 
voted  and  confirmed  the  judgment  of  the 
court  below,  could  it  have  been  positively 
said  that  an  injustice  was  done  by  their  in- 
terference. The  majority  of  the  judges  on 
the  writ  of  error  had  approved  the  judgment 
of  the  court  below.  In  the  House  of  Lords 
itself  the  Lord  Chancellor  and  Lord  Brough- 
am were  of  opinion  that  the  judgment  ought 
to  be  sustained.  There  would,  therefore, 
have  been  some  ground  for  maintaining  that 
the  substantial  justice  of  the  case  had  been 
met  by  the  action  of  the  lay  peers.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  would  have  afforded  a ground 
for  a positive  outcry  in  Ireland  if  a question 
purely  of  law  had  been  decided  by  the  votes 
of  lay  peers  against  their  bitter  enemy.  One 


peer,  Lord  Wliarncliffe,  made  a timely  appeal 
to  the  better  judgment  and  feeling  of  his 
brethren.  He  urged  them  not  to  take  a 
course  which  might  allow  any  one  to  say  that 
political  or  personal  feeling  had  prevailed  in 
a judicial  decision  of  the  House  of  Lords. 
The  appeal  had  its  effect.  A moment  before 
one  lay  peer  at  least  had  openly  declared  that 
he  would  insist  on  his  right  to  vote.  When 
the  Lord  Chancellor  was  about  to  put  the 
question  in  the  first  instance,  to  ascertain  in 
the  usual  way  whether  a division  wrould  be 
necessary,  several  lay  peers  seemed  as  if  they 
were  determined  to  vote.  But  the  appeal  of 
Lord  Wliarncliffe  settled  the  matter.  All  the 
lay  peers  at  once  withdrew  and  left  the  mat- 
ter according  to  the  usual  course  in  the  hands 
of  the  law  lords.  The  majority  of  these  be- 
ing against  the  judgment  of  the  court  below, 
it  was  accordingly  reversed,  and  O’Connell 
and  his  associates  were  set  at  liberty.  The 
propriety  of  a lay  peer  voting  on  a question 
of  judicial  appeal  was  never  raised  again  so 
long  as  the  appellate  jurisdiction  of  the 
House  of  Lords  was  still  exercised  in  the  old 
and  now  obsolete  fashion. 

Nothing  could  well  have  been  more  satis- 
factory and  more  fortunate  in  its  results  than 
the  conduct  of  the  House  of  Lords.  The 
effect  upon  the  mind  of  the  Irish  people 
would  have  been  deplorable  if  it  had  been 
seen  that  O’Connell  was  convicted  by  a jury 
on  which  there  were  no  Roman  Catholics,  and 
that  the  sentence  was  confirmed,  not  bjr  a ju- 
dicial but  by  a strictly  political  vote  of  the 
House  of  Lords.  As  it  was,  the  influence  of 
the  decision,  'which  proved  that  even  in  the 
assembly  most  bitterly  denounced  by  O’Con- 
nell he  could  receive  fair  play,  was  in  the 
highest  degree  satisfactory.  It  cannot  be 
doubted  that  it  did  something  to  weaken  the 
force  of  O ’Connell’s  own  denunciations  of 
Saxon  treachery  and  wrong-doing.  The  in- 
fluence of  O’Connell  was  never  the  same 
after  the  trial.  Many  causes  combined  to 
bring  about  this  result.  Most  writers  ascribe 
it  above  all  to  the  trial  itself,  and  the  evidence 
it  afforded  that  the  English  Government  were 
strong  enough  to  prosecute  and  punish  even 
O’Connell  if  he  provoked  them  too  far.  It  is 
somewhat  surprising  to  find  intelligent  men 
like  Mr.  Green,  the  author  of  “ A Short  His- 
tory of  the  English  People,  ” countenancing 
such  a belief.  If  the  House  of  Lords  had,  by 
the  votes  of  the  lay  peers,  confirmed  the  sen- 
tence on  O’Connell,  he  would  have  come  out 
of  his  prison  at  the  expiration  of  his  period 
of  sentence  more  popular  and  more  powerful 
than  ever.  Had  his  strength  and  faculty  of 
agitation  lasted,  he  might  have  agitated 
thenceforth  with  more  effect  than  ever.  If 
the  Clontarf  meeting  had  not  disclosed  to  a 
I large  section  of  his  followers  that  his  policy 
after  all  was  only  to  be  one  of  talk,  he  might 
have  come  out  of  prison  just  the  man  he  had 
been,  the  leader  of  all  classes  of  Catholics  and 
Nationalists.  But  the  real  blow  given  to 
O’Connell’s  popularity  was  given  by  O’Con- 
nell himself.  The  moment  it  was  made  clear 
that  nothing  was  to  be  done  but  agitate,  and 
that  all  the  monster  meetings,  the  crowds  and 
banners  and  bands  of  music,  the  marshalling 
and  marching  and  reviewing,  meant  nothing 
more  than  Father  Mathew’s  temperance 
meetings  meant — that  moment  all  the  youth 
of  the  movement  fell  off  from  O’Connell. 
The  young  men  were  very  silly,  as  after  events 
proved.  O’Connell  was  far  more  wise,  and 
had  an  infinitely  better  estimate  of  the 
strength  of  England  than  they  had.  But  it 
is  certain  that  the  yonng  men  were  disgusted 
with  the  kind  of  gigantic  sham  which  the 
great  agitator  seemed  to  have  been  conduct- 
ing for  so  long  a time.  It  would  have  been 
impossible  to  keep  up  for  ever  such  an  ex- 
citement as  that  which  got  together  the  mon- 
ster meetings.  Such  heat  cannot  be  brought 
up  to  the  "burning  point  and  kept  there  at 
will.  A reaction  was  inevitable.  O’Connell 
was  getting  old,  and  had  lived  a life  of  work 
and  wear  "and  tear  enough  to  break  down 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


41 


even  his  constitution  of  iron.  He  had  kept 
a great  part  of  his  own  followers  in  heart,  as 
he  had  kept  the  Government  in  alarm,  by 
leaving  it  doubtful  whether  he  would  not  in 
the  end  make  an  appeal  to  the  reserve  of 
physical  force  which  he  so  often  boasted  of 
having  at  his  back.  When  the  whole  secret 
was  out,  he  ceased  to  be  an  object  of  fear  to 
the  one,  and  of  enthusiasm  to  the  other.  It 
was  neither  the  Lord  Lieutenant’s  proclama- 
tion nor  the  prosecution  by  the  Government 
that  impaired  the  influence  of  O’Connell.  It 
was  O’Connell’s  own  proclamation  declaring 
for  submission  to  the  law  that  dethroned  him. 
From  that  moment  the  political  monarch  had 
to  dispute  with  rebels  for  his  crown  ; and 
the  crown  fell  off  in  the  struggle,  like  that 
which  Uhland  tells  of  in  the  pretty  poem. 

For  the  Clontarf  meeting  had  been  the  cli- 
max. There  was  all  manner  of  national  re- 
joicing when  the  decision  of  the  House  of 
Lords  set  O’Connell  and  his  fellow-prisoners 
free.  There  were  illuminations  and  ban- 
quets and  meetings  and  triumphal  proces- 
sions, renewed  declarations  of  allegiance  to 
the  great  leader,  and  renewed  protestations 
on  his  part  that  Repeal  was  coming.  But  his 
reign  was  over.  His  death  may  as  well  be 
recorded  here  as  later.  His  health  broke 
down  ; and  the  disputes  in  which  he  became 
engaged  with  the  Young  Irelanders,  dividing 
his  party  into  two  hostile  camps,  were  a 
grievous  burden  to  him.  In  Lord  Beacons- 
fitld’s  Life  of  Lord  George  Bentinck,  a very 
touching  description  is  given  of  the  last 
speecli  made  by  O’Connell  in  Parliament. 
It  was  on  April  3,  1846  : “ His  appearance,” 
says  Mr.  Disraeli,  “was  of  great  debility, 
and  the  tones  of  his  voice  were  very  still. 
His  words  indeed  only  reached  those  who 
were  immediately  around  him,  and  the  Min- 
isters sitting  on  the  other  side  of  the  green 
table,  and  listening  with  that  interest  and  re- 
spectful attention  which  became  the  occa- 
sion.” O’Connell  spoke  for  nearly  two 
hours.  “ It  was  a strange  and  touching 
spectacle  to  those  who  remembered  the 
form  of  colossal  energy  and  the  clear  and 
thrilling  tones  that  had  once  startled,  dis- 
turbed, and  controlled  senates.  . . . To 

the  House  generally  it  was  a performance  in 
dumb  show  : a feeble  old  man  muttering 
before  a table  ; but  respect  for  the  great  Par- 
liamentary personage  kept  all  as  orderly  as  if 
the  fortunes  of  a party  hung  upon  his  rhet- 
oric ; and  though  not  an  accent  reached  the 
gallery,  means  were  taken  that  next  morn- 
ing the  country  should  not  lose  the  last  and 
not  the  least  interesting  of  the  speeches  of 
one  who  had  so  long  occupied  and  agitated 
the  mind  of  nations.  ’ ’ 

O’Connell  became  seized  with  a profound 
melancholy.  Only  one  desire  seemed  left  to 
him,  the  desire  to  close  his  stormy  career  in 
Rome.  The  Eternal  City  is  the  capital,  the 
shrine,  the  Mecca  of  the  Church  to  which 
O’Connell  was  undoubtedly  devoted  with  all 
his  heart.  He  longed  to  lie  down  in  the 
shadow  of  the  dome  of  St.  Peter’s  and  rest 
there,  and  there  die.  His  youth  had  been 
wild  in  more  ways  than  one,  and  he  had 
long  been  under  the  influence  of  a profound 
penitence.  He  had  killed  a man  in  a duel, 
and  was  through  all  his  after  life  haunted 
by  regret  for  the  deed,  although  it  was  really 
forced  on  him,  and  he  had  acted  only  as  any 
other  man  of  his  time  would  have  acted  in 
such  conditions.  But  now  in  his  old  and 
sinking  days  all  the  errors  of  his  youth  and 
his  strong  manhood  came  back  upon  him, 
and  he  longed  to  steep  the  painful  memories 
in  the  sacred  influences  of  Rome.  He  hur- 
ried to  Italy  at  a time  when  the  prospect  of 
the  famine  darkening  down  upon  his  country 
cast  an  additional  shadow  across  his  outward 
path.  He  reached  Genoa,  and  he  went  no 
farther.  His  strength  wholly  failed  him 
there,  and  he  died,  still  far  from  Rome,  on 
May  15,  1847.  The  close  of  his  career  was  a 
mournful  collapse  ; it  was  like  the  sudden 
crumbling  in  of  some  stately  and  command- 


ing tower.  The  other  day,  it  seemed,  he 
filled  a space  of  almost  unequalled  breadth 
and  height  in  the  political  landscape  ; and 
now  he  is  already  gone.  “ Even  with  a 
thought  the  rack  dislimbs,  and  makes  it  in- 
distinct, as  water  is  in  water.  ’ ’ 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
peel’s  administration. 

Some  important  steps  in  the  progress  of 
what  may  be  described  as  social  legislation 
are  part  of  the  history  of  Peel’s  Government. 
The  Act  of  Parliament  which  prohibited  ab- 
solutely the  employment  of  women  and  girls 
in  mines  and  collieries  was  rendered  unavoid- 
able by  the  fearful  exposures  made  through 
the  instrumentality  of  a commission  appoint- 
ed to  inquire  into  the  whole  subject.  This  com- 
mission was  appointed  on  the  motion  of  the 
then  Lord  Ashley,  since  better  known  as  the 
Earl  of  Shaftesbury,  a man  who  during  the 
whole  of  a long  career  has  always  devoted 
himself — sometimes  wisely  and  successfully, 
sometimes  indiscreetly  and  to  little  purpose, 
always  with  disinterested  and  benevolent 
intention — to  the  task  of  brightening  the 
lives  and  lightening  the  burdens  of  the 
working  classes  and  the  poor.  The  com- 
mission found  many  hideous  evils  arising 
from  the  employment  of  women  and  girls 
under-ground,  and  Lord  Ashley  made 
such  effective  use  of  their  disclosures 
that  he  encountered  very  little  opposition 
when  he  came  to  propose  restrictive  legisla- 
tion. In  some  of  the  coal  mines  women 
were  literally  employed  as  beasts  of  burden. 
Where  the  seam  of  coal  was  too  narrow  to 
allow  them  to  stand  upright,  they  had  to 
crawl  back  and  forward  on  all  fours  for 
fourteen  or  sixteen  hours  a day  dragging  the 
trucks  laden  with  coals.  The  trucks  were 
generally  fastened  to  a chain  which  passed 
between  the  legs  of  the  unfortunate  women, 
and  was  then  connected  with  a belt  which 
was  strapped  round  their  naked  waists. 
Their  only  clothing  often  consisted  of  an  old 
pair  of  trousers  made  of  sacking  ; and  they 
were  uncovered  from  the  waist  up — uncov- 
ered, that  is  to  say,  except  for  the  grime  and 
filth  that  collected  and  clotted  around  them. 
All  manner  of  hideous  diseases  were  generated 
in  these  unsexed  bodies.  Unsexed  almost 
literally  some  of  them  became  ; for  their 
chests  were  often  hard  and  flat  as  those  of 
men  ; and  not  a few  of  them  lost  all  repro- 
ductive power  : a happy  condition  truly  un- 
der the  circumstances,  where  women  who 
bore  children  only  went  up  to  the  higher  air 
for  a week  during  their  confinement,  and 
were  then  back  at  their  work  again.  It 
would  be  superfluous  to  say  that  the  immor- 
ality engendered  by  such  a state  of  things 
was  in  exact  keeping  with  the  other  evils 
which  it  brought  about.  Lord  Ashley  had 
the  happiness  and  the  honor  of  putting  a stop 
to  this  infamous  sort  of  labor  for  ever  by  the 
Act  of  1842,  which  declared  that,  after  a cer- 
tain limited  period,  no  woman  or  girl  what- 
ever should  be  employed  in  mines  and  col- 
lieries. 

Lord  Ashley  was  less  completely  success- 
ful in  his  endeavor  to  secure  a ten  hours’ 
limitation  for  the  daily  labor  of  women  and 
young  persons  in  factories.  By  a vigorous 
annual  agitation  on  the  general  subject  of 
factory  labor,  in  which  Lord  Ashley  had  fol- 
lowed in  the  footsteps  of  Mr.  Michael  Thomas 
Sadler,  he  brought  the  Government  up  to  the 
point  of  undertaking  legislation  on  the  sub- 
ject. They  first  introduced  a bill  which 
combined  a limitation  of  the  labor  of  children 
in  factories  with  a plan  for  compulsory  edu- 
cation among  the  children.  The  educational 
clauses  of  the  bill  had  to  be  abandoned  in 
consequence  of  a somewhat  narrow-minded 
opposition  among  the  Dissenters,  who  feared 
that  too  much  advantage  was  given  to  the 
Church.  Afterwards  the  Government 
brought  in  another  bill,  which  became  in  the 
end  the  Factories  Act  of  1844.  It  was  during 
the  passing  of  this  measure  that  Lord  Ashley 


tried  unsuccessfully  to  introduce  his  ten 
hours’  limit.  The  bill  diminished  the  work- 
ing hours  of  children  under  thirteen  years  of 
age,  and  fixed  them  at  six  and  a half  hours 
each  day  ; extended  somewhat  the  time  dur- 
ing which  they  were  to  be  under  daily  in- 
struction, and  did  a good  many  other  useful 
and  wholesome  things.  The  principle  of  leg- 
islative interference  to  protect  youthful 
workers  in  factories  had  been  already  estab- 
lished by  the  Act  of  1833  ; and  Lord  Ashley’s 
agitation  only  obtained  for  it  a somewhat  ex- 
tended application.  It  has  since  that  time 
again  and  again  received  further  extension  ; 
and  in  this  time,  as  in  the  former,  there  is  a 
constant  controversy  going  on  as  to  whether 
its  principles  ought  not  to  be  so  extended  as 
to  guard  in  almost  every  way  the  labor  of 
adult  women,  and  even  of  adult  men.  The 
controversy  during  Lord  Ashley’s  agitation 
was  always  warm  and  often  impassioned. 
Many  thoroughly  benevolent  men  and  women 
could  not  bring  themselves  to  believe  that 
any  satisfactory  and  permanent  results  could 
come  of  a legislative  interference  with  what 
might  be  called  the  freedom  of  contract  be- 
tween employers  and  employed.  They 
argued  that  it  was  idle  to  say  the  interference 
was  only  made  or  sought  in  the  case  of 
women  and  boys  ; for  if  the  women  and 
boys  stop  off  working,  they  pointed  out,  the 
men  must  perforce  in  most  cases  stop  off 
working  too.  Some  of  the  public  men  after- 
wards most  justly  popular  among  the  English 
artisan  classes  were  opposed  to  the  measure 
on  the  ground  that  it  was  a heedless  attempt 
to  interfere  with  fixed  economic  laws.  It  was 
urged  too,  and  with  much  semblance  of  jus- 
tice, that  the  interference  of  the  State  for  the 
protection  or  the  compulsory  education  of 
children  in  factories  would  have  been  much 
better  employed,  and  was  far  more  loudly 
called  for,  in  the  case  of  the  children  em- 
ployed in  agricultural  labor.  The  lot  of  a 
factory  child,  it  was  contended,  is  infinitely 
better  in  most  respects  than  that  of  the  poor 
little  creature  who  is  employed  in  hallooing 
at  the  crows  on  a farm.  The  mill-hand  is 
well  cared  for,  well  paid,  well  able  to  care 
for  himself  and  his  wife  and  his  family,  it 
was  argued  ; but  what  of  the  miserable  Giles 
Scroggins  of  Dorsetshire  or  Somersetshire, 
who  never  has  more  in  all  his  life  than  just 
enough  to  keep  body  and  soul  together  ; and 
for  whom,  at  the  close,  the  workhouse  is  the 
only  haven  of  rest  ? Why  not  legislate  for 
him — at  least  for  his  wife  and  children  '? 

Neither  point  requires  much  consideration 
from  us  at  present.  We  have  to  recognize 
historical  facts  ; and  it  is  certain  that  this 
country  has  made  up  its  mind  that  for  the 
present  and  for  a long  time  to  come  Parlia- 
ment will  interfere  in  whatever  way  seems 
good  to  it  with  the  conditions  on  which  labor 
is  carried  on.  There  has  been  indeed  a very 
marked  advance  or  retrogression,  whichever 
men  may  please  to  call  it,  in  public  opinion 
since  the  ten  hours’  agitation.  At  that  time 
compulsory  education  and  the  principles  of 
Mr.  Gladstone’s  Irish  Land  Act  would  have 
seemed  alike  impossible  to  most  persons  in 
this  country.  The  practical  mind  of  the  Eng- 
lishman carries  to  an  extreme  the  dislike  and 
contempt  for  what  the  French  call  les  prin- 
cipes  in  politics.  Therefore  we  oscillate  a 
good  deal,  the  pendulum  swinging  now  very 
far  in  the  direction  of  non-interference  with 
individual  action,  and  now  still  farther  in  the 
direction  of  universal  interference  and  regu- 
lation— what  was  once  humorously  described 
as  grandmotherly  legislation.  With  our  re- 
cent experiences  we  can  only  be  surprised 
that  a few  years  ago  there  was  such  a repug- 
nance to  the  modest  amount  of  interference 
with  individual  rights  which  Lord  Ashley’s 
extremest  proposals  would  have  sought  to 
introduce.  As  regards  the  other  point,  it  is 
certain  that  Parliament  will  at  one  time  or 
another  do  for  the  children  in  the  fields 
something  very  like  that  which  it  has  done 
for  the  children  in  the  factories.  It  is 


42 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


enough  for  us  to  know  that  practically  the 
factory  legislation  has  worked  very  well  ; 
and  that  the  non-interference  in  the  fields  is 
a far  heavier  responsibility  on  the  conscience 
of  Parliament  than  interference  in  the  facto- 
ries. 

Many  other  things  done  by  Sir  Robert  Peel’s 
Government  aroused  bitter  controversy  and 
agitation.  In  one  or  two  remarkable  in- 
stances the  ministerial  policy  went  near  to 
producing  that  discord  in  the  Conservative 
party  which  we  shall  presently  see  break  out 
into  passion  and  schism  when  Peel  came  to 
deal  with  the  Corn  Laws.  There  was,  for 
example,  the  grant  to  the  Roman  Catholic 
College  of  Maynooth,  a college  for  the  edu- 
cation specially  of  young  men  who  sought  to 
enter  the  ranks  of  the  priesthood.  The  grant 
was  not  a new  thing.  Since  before  the  Act 
of  Union  a grant  had  been  made  for  the  col- 
lege. The  Government  of  Sir  Robert  Peel 
only  proposed  to  make  that  which  was  in- 
sufficient sufficient ; to  enable  the  college 
to  be  kept  in  repair,  and  to  accomplish  the 
purpose  for  which  it  was  founded.  As 
Macaulay  put  it,  there  was  no  more  ques- 
tion of  principle  involved  than  there  would 
be  in  the  sacrifice  of  a pound  instead  of  a 
pennyweight  on  some  particular  altar.  Yet 
the  ministerial  proposition  called  up  a very 
tempest  of  clamorous  bigotry  all  over  the 
country.  What  Macaulay  described  in  fierce 
scorn  as  “the  bray  of  Exeter  Hall”  was 
heard  resounding  every  day  and  night.  Peel 
carried  his  measure,  although  nearly  half  his 
own  party  in  the  House  of  Commons  voted 
against  it  on  the  second  reading.  The  whole 
controversy  has  little  interest  now.  Perhaps 
it  will  be  found  to  live  in  the  memory  of 
many  persons,  chiefly  because  of  the  quarrel 
it  caused  between  Macaulay  and  his  Edin- 
burgh constituents,  and  of  the  annual  motion 
for  the  withdrawal  of  the  grant  which  was 
so  long  afterwards  one  of  the  regular  bores 
of  the  House  of  Commons.  Many  of  us  can 
well  remember  the  venerable  form  of  the  late 
Mr.  Spooner  as  year  after  year  he  addressed 
an  apathetic,  scanty,  and  half-amused  audi- 
ence, pottering  over  his  papers  by  the  light 
of  two  candles  specially  placed  for  his  con- 
venience on  the  table  in  front  of  the  Speaker, 
and  endeavoring  in  vain  to  arouse  England 
to  serious  attention  on  the  subject  of  the 
awful  fate  she  was  preparing  for  herself  by 
her  toleration  of  the  principles  of  Rome. 
The  Maynooth  grant  was  abolished  indeed 
not  long  after  Mr.  Spooner’s  death  ; but  the 
manner  of  its  abolition  would  have  given  him 
less  comfort  even  than  its  introduction.  It 
was  abolished  when  Mr.  Gladstone’s  Govern- 
ment abolished  the  State  Church  in  Ireland. 

Another  of  Peel’s  measures  which  aroused 
much  clamor  on  both  sides  was  that  for  the 
establishment  of  what  were  afterwards  called 
the  “ godless  colleges”  in  Ireland.  O’Con- 
nell has  often  had  the  credit  of  applying  this 
nickname  to  the  new  colleges  ; but  it  was  in 
fact  from  the  extremest  of  all  no-popery  men, 
Sir  Robert  Harry  Inglis,  that  the  expression 
came.  It  was  indeed  from  Sir  Robert  Inglis’s 
side  that  the  first  note  sounded  of  opposition 
to  the  scheme,  although  O’Connell  afterwards 
took  it  vigorously  up,  and  the  Pope  and  the 
Irish  bishops  condemned  the  colleges. 

There  was  objection  within  the  Ministry, 
as  well  as  without.  Mr.  Gladstone,  who  had 
been  doing  admirable  work,  first  as  Vice- 
President,  and  afterwards  as  President,  of 
the  Board  of  Trade,  resigned  his  office  be- 
cause of  the  Irish  schemes.  He  acted,  per- 
haps, with  a too  sensitive  chivalry.  He  had 
written  a work,  as  all  the  world  knows,  on 
the  relations  of  Church  and  State,  and  he  did 
not  think  the  views  expressed  in  that  book 
left  him  free  to  co-operate  in  the  ministeri- 
al measure.  Some  staid  politicians  were 
shocked,  many  more  smiled,  not  a few 
sneered.  The  public  in  general  applauded 
the  spirit  of  disinterestedness  which  dictated 
the  young  statesman’s  act. 

The  proposal  of  the  Government  was  to  es- 


tablish in  Ireland  three  colleges,  one  in  Cork, 
the  second  in  Belfast,  and  the  third  in  Gal- 
way, and  to  affiliate  these  to  a new  university 
to  be  called  the  “ Queen’s  University  in  Ire- 
land.” The  teaching  in  these  colleges  was 
to  be  purely  secular.  Nothing  could  be 
more  admirable  than  the  intentions  of  Peel 
and  his  colleagues.  Nor  could  it  be  denied 
that  there  might  have  been  good  seeming 
hope  for  a plan  which  thus  proposed  to  open 
a sort  of  neutral  ground  in  the  educational 
controversy.  But  from  both  sides  of  the 
House  and  from  the  extreme  party  in  each 
Church  came  an  equally  fierce  denunciation 
of  the  proposal  to  separate  secular  from  re- 
ligious education.  Nor  surely  could  the 
claim  of  the  Irish  Catholics  be  said  even  by 
the  warmest  advocate  of  undenominational 
education  to  have  no  reason  on  its  side.  The 
small  minority  of  Protestants  in  Ireland  had 
their  college  and  their  university  established 
as  a distinctively  Protestant  institution. 
Why  should  not  the  great  majority  who  were 
Catholics  ask  for  something  of  the  same 
kind  for  themselves  ? Peel  carried  his  meas- 
ure ; but  the  controversy  has  gone  on  ever 
since,  and  we  have  yet  to  see  whether  the 
scheme  is  a success  or  a failure. 

One  small  instalment  of  justice  to  a much 
injured  and  long  suffering  religious  body 
was  accomplished  without  any  trouble  by  Sir 
Robert  Peel’s  Government.  This  was  the 
bill  for  removing  the  test  by  which  Jews 
were  excluded  from  certain  municipal  offices. 
A Jew  might  be  high  sheriff  of  a county,  or 
Sheriff  of  London,  but  with  an  inconsistency 
which  was  as  ridiculous  as  it  was  narrow- 
minded, he  was  prevented  from  becoming  a 
mayor,  an  alderman,  or  even  a member  of 
the  Common  Council.  The  oath  which  had 
to  be  taken  included  the  words  “ on  the  true 
faith  of  a Christian.”  Lord  Lyndhurst,  the 
Lord  Chancellor,  introduced  a measure  to  get 
rid  of  this  absurd  anomaly  ; and  the  House 
of  Lords,  who  had  firmly  rejected  similar 
proposals  of  relief  before,  passed  it  without 
any  difficulty.  It  was  of  course  passed  by 
the  House  of  Commons,  which  had  done  its 
best  to  introduce  the  reform  in  previous  ses- 
sions, and  without  success. 

The  Bank  Charter  Act,  separating  the 
issue  from  the  banking  department  of  the 
Bank  of  England,  limiting  the  issue  of  notes 
to  a fixed  amount  of  securities,  and  requiring 
the  whole  of  the  further  circulation  to  be  on 
a basis  of  bullion,  and  prohibiting  the  forma- 
tion of  any  new  banks  of  issue,  is  a charac- 
teristic and  an  important  measure  of  Peel’s 
Government.  To  Peel,  too,  we  owe  the  es- 
tablishment of  the  income  tax  on  its  present 
basis  — a doubtful  boon.  The  copyright 
question  was  at  least  advanced  a stage. 
Railways  were  regulated.  The  railway 
mania  and  railway  panic  also  belong  to  this 
active  period.  The  country  went  wild  with 
railway  speculation.  The  South  Sea  scheme 
was  hardly  more  of  a bubble  or  hardly  burst 
more  suddenly  or  disastrously.  The  vulgar 
and  flashy  successes  of  one  or  two  lucky  ad- 
venturers turned  the  heads  of  the  whole  com- 
munity. For  a time  it  seemed  to  be  a na- 
tional article  of  faith  that  the  capacity  of  the 
country  to  absorb  new  railway  schemes  and 
make  them  profitable  was  unlimited,  and 
that  to  make  a fortune  one  had  only  to  take 
shares  in  anything. 

An  odd  feature  of  the  time  was  the  out- 
break of  what  were  called  the  Rebecca  riots 
in  Wales.  These  riots  arose  out  of  the  anger 
and  impatience  of  the  people  at  the  great  in- 
crease of  toll-bars  and  tolls  on  the  public 
roads.  Some  one,  it  was  supposed,  had  hit 
upon  a passage  in  Genesis  which  supplies  a 
motto  for  their  grievance  and  their  com- 
plaint. ‘ ‘ And  they  blessed  Rebekah  and  said 
unto  her  ...  let  thy  seed  possess  the  gate 
of  those  which  hate  them.”  They  set  about 
accordingly  to  possess  very  effectually  the 
gates  of  those  which  hated  them.  Mobs  as- 
sembled every  night,  destroyed  turnpikes, 
and  dispersed.  They  met  with  little  molesta- 


tion in  most  cases  for  a while.  The  mobs 
were  always  led  by  a man  in  woman’s 
clothes,  supposed  to  represent  the  typical 
Rebecca.  As  the  disturbances  went  on,  it 
was  found  that  no  easier  mode  of  disguise 
could  be  got  than  a woman’s  clothes,  and 
therefore  in  many  of  the  riots  petticoats 
might  almost  be  said  to  be  the  uniform  of  the 
insurgent  force.  Night  after  night  for 
months  these  midnight  musterings  took 
place.  Rebecca  and  her  daughters  became 
the  terror  of  many  regions.  As  the  work 
went  on  it  became  more  serious.  Rebecca 
and  her  daughters  grew  bold.  There  were 
conflicts  with  the  police  and  with  the  soldiers. 
It  is  to  be  feared  that  men  and  even  women 
died  for  Rebecca.  At  last  the  Government 
succeeded  in  putting  down  the  riots,  and  had 
the  wisdom  to  appoint  a commission  to  in- 
quire into  the  cause  of  so  much  disturbance  ; 
and  the  commission,  as  will  readily  be  imag- 
ined, found  that  there  were  genuine  griev- 
ances at  the  bottom  of  the  popular  excite- 
ment. The  farmers  and  the  laborers  were 
poor  ; the  tolls  were  seriously  oppressive. 
The  Government  dealt  lightly  with  most  of 
the  rioters  who  had  been  captured,  and  intro- 
duced measures  which  removed  the  griev- 
ances most  seriously  complained  of.  Rebecca 
and  her  daughters  were  heard  of  no  more. 
They  had  made  out  their  case,  and  done  in 
their  wild  mumming  way  something  of  a 
good  work.  Only  a short  time  before  the 
rioters  would  have  been  shot  down  and  the 
grievances  would  have  been  allowed  to  stand. 
Rebecca  and  her  short  career  mark  an  ad- 
vancement in  the  political  and  social  history 
of  England. 

Sir  James  Graham,  the  Home  Secretary, 
brought  himself  and  the  Government  into  some 
trouble  by  the  manner  in  which  he  made  use 
of  the  power  invested  in  the  Administration 
for  the  opening  of  private  letters.  Mr.  Dun- 
combe,  the  Radical  member  for  Finsbury, 
presented  a petition  from  Joseph  Mazzini 
and  others  complaining  that  letters  addressed 
to  them  had  been  opened  in  the  Post  Office. 
Many  of  Mazzini ’s  friends,  and  perhaps 
Mazzini  himself,  believed  that  the  contents 
of  these  letters  had  been  communicated  to 
the  Sardinian  and  Austrian  Governments, 
and  that  as  a result  men  who  were  supposed 
to  be  implicated  in  projects  of  insurrection 
on  the  Continent  had  actually  been  arrested 
and  put  to  death.  Sir  James  Graham  did  not 
deny  that  he  had  issued  a warrant  authoriz- 
ing the  opening  of  some  of  Mazzini’s  letters  ; 
but  he  contended  that  the  right  to  open  let- 
ters had  been  specially  reserved  to  the  Gov- 
ernment on  its  responsibility,  that  it  had 
been  always  exercised,  but  by  him  with 
special  caution  and  moderation  ; and  that  it 
would  be  impossible  for  any  Government  ab- 
solutely to  deprive  itself  of  such  a right.  The 
public  excitement  was  at  first  very  great ; 
but  it  soon  subsided.  The  reports  of  Parlia- 
mentary committees  appointed  by  the  two 
Houses  showed  that  all  governments  had  ex- 
ercised the  right,  but  naturally  with  decreas- 
ing frequency  and  greater  caution  of  late 
years  ; and  that  there  was  no  chance  now  of 
its  being  seriously  abused.  No  one,  not 
even  Thomas  Carlyle,  who  had  written  to  the 
Times  in  generous  indignation  at  the  opening 
of  Mazzini’s  letters,  went  so  far  as  to  say 
that  such  a right  should  never  be  exercised. 
Carlyle  admitted  that  he  would  tolerate  the 
practice  “ when  some  new  Gunpowder  Plot 
may  be  in  the  wind,  some  double-dyed  high 
treason  or  imminent  national  wreck  not 
avoidable  otherwise.  ’ ’ In  the  particular  case 
of  Mazzini  it  seemed  an  odious  trick,  and 
every  one  was  ashamed  of  it.  Such  a feeling 
was  the  surest  guard  against  abuse  for  the 
future,  and  the  matter  was  allowed  to  drop. 
The  minister  is  to  be  pitied  who  is  compelled 
even  by  legitimate  necessity  to  have  recourse 
to  such  an  expedient ; he  would  be  despised 
now  by  every  decent  man  if  he  turned  to  it 
without  such  justification.  Many  years  had 
to  pass  away  before  Sir  James  Graham  was 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


43 


free  from  innuendoes  and  attacks  on  the 
ground  that  he  had  tampered  with  the  cor- 
respondence of  an  exile.  One  remark,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  is  right  to  make.  An  exile  is 
sheltered  in  a country  like  England  on  the 
assumption  that  he  does  not  involve  her  in 
responsibility  and  danger  by  using  her  pro- 
tection as  a shield  behind  which  to  contrive 
plots  and  organize  insurrections  against 
foreign  governments.  It  is  certain  that  Maz- 
zini  did  make  use  of  the  shelter  England  gave 
him  for  such  a purpose.  It  would  in  the 
end  be  to  the  heavy  injury  of  all  fugitives 
from  despotic  rule  if  to  shelter  them  brought 
such  consequences  on  the  countries  that 
offered  them  a home. 

The  Peel  Administration  was  made  memo- 
rable by  many  remarkable  events  at  home  as 
well  as  abroad.  It  had,  as  we  have  seen,  in- 
herited wars  and  brought  them  to  a close  : it 
had  wars  of  its  own.  Scinde  was  annexed  by 
Lord  Ellenborough  in  consequence  of  the  dis- 
putes which  had  arisen  between  us  and  the 
Ameers,  whom  we  accused  of  having  broken 
faith  with  us.  They  were  said  to  be  in  cor- 
respondence with  our  enemies,  which  may 
possibly  have  been  true,  and  to  have  failed  to 
pay  up  our  tribute,  which  was  very  likely. 
Anyhow  we  found  occasion  for  an  attack  on 
Scinde  ; and  the  result  was  the  total  defeat  of 
the  Princes  and  their  army,  and  the  annexa- 
tion of  the  territory.  Sir  Charles  Napier 
won  a splendid  victory — splendid,  that  is,  in  a 
military  sense — over  an  enemy  outnumbering 
him  by  more  than  twelve  to  one  at  the  battle 
of  Meeanee  ; and  Scinde  was  ours.  Peel  and 
his  colleagues  accepted  the  annexation.  None 
of  them  liked  it ; but  none  saw  how  it  could 
be  undone.  There  was  nothing  to  be  proud 
of  in  the  matter,  except  the  courage  of  our 
soldiers,  and  the  genius  of  Sir  Charles  Na- 
pier, one  of  the  most  brilliant,  daring,  suc- 
cessful, eccentric,  and  self -conceited  captains 
who  had  ever  fought  in  the  service  of  Eng- 
land since  the  days  of  Peterborough.  Later 
on  the  Sikhs  invaded  our  territory  by  cross- 
ing the  Sutlej  in  great  force.  Sir  Hugh 
Gough,  afterwards  Lord  Gough,  fought  sev- 
eral fierce  battles  with  them  before  he  could 
conquer  them  ; and  even  then  they  were  only 
conquered  for  the  time. 

We  were  at  one  moment  apparently  on  the 
very  verge  of  what  must  have  proved  a far 
more  serious  war  much  nearer  home,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  dispute  that  arose  between 
this  country  and  France  about  Tahiti  and 
Queen  Pomare.  Queen  Pomare  was  sov- 
ereign of  the  island  of  Tahiti,  in  the  South 
Pacific,  the  Otaheite  of  Captain  Cook.  She 
was  a pupil  of  some  of  our  missionaries,  and 
was  very  friendly  to  England  and  its  people. 
She  had  been  induced  or  compelled  to  put 
herself  and  her  dominion  under  the  protec- 
tion of  France  ; a step  which  was  highly  dis- 
pleasing to  her  subjects.  Some  ill-feeling 
towards  the  French  residents  of  the  island 
was  shown  ; and  the  French  admiral,  who 
had  induced  or  compelled  the  Queen  to  put 
herself  under  French  protection,  now  sud- 
denly appeared  off  the  coast,  and  called  on 
her  to  hoist  the  French  flag  above  her  own. 
She  refused  ; and  he  instantly  effected  a land- 
ing on  the  island,  pulled  down  her  flag,  raised 
that  of  France  in  its  place,  and  proclaimed 
that  the  island  was  French  territory.  The 
French  admiral  appears  to  have  been  a hot- 
headed, thoughtless  sort  of  man,  the  Com- 
modore Wilkes  of  his  day.  His  act  was  at 
once  disavowed  by  the  French  Government, 
and  condemned  in  strong  terms  by  M.  Guizot. 
But  Queen  Pomare  had  appealed  to  the 
Queen  of  England  for  assistance.  “ Do  not 
cast  me  away,  my  friend,”  she  said  ; “ I run 
to  you  for  refuge,  to  be  covered  under  your 
great  shadow,  the  same  that  afforded  relief 
to  my  fathers  by  your  fathers,  who  are  now 
dead,  and  whose  kingdoms  have  descended 
to  us  the  weaker  vessels.  ” A large  party  in 
France  allowed  themselves  to  become  in- 
flamed with  the  idea  that  British  intrigue 
was  at  the  bottom  of  the  Tahiti  people’s  dis- 


like to  the  protectorate  of  France,  and  that 
England  wanted  to  get  Queen  Pomare ’s  do- 
minions for  herself.  They  cried  out  there- 
fore that  to  take  down  the  flag  of  France  from 
its  place  in  Tahiti  would  be  to  insult  the  dig- 
nity of  the  French  nation,  and  to  insult  it  at 
the  instance  of  England.  The  cry  was  echoed 
in  the  shrillest  tones  by  a great  number  of 
French  newspapers.  Where  the  flag  of 
France  has  once  been  hoisted,  they  screamed, 
it  must  never  be  taken  down  ; which  is 
about  equivalent  to  saying  that  if  a man’s  offi- 
cious servant  carries  off  the  property  of  some 
one  else,  and  gives  it  to  his  master,  the  mas- 
ter’s dignity  is  lowered  by  his  consenting  to 
hand  it  back  to  its  owner.  In  the  face  of 
this  clamor  the  French  Government,  although 
they  disavowed  any  share  in  the  filibustering 
of  their  admiral,  did  not  show  themselves  in 
great  haste  to  undo  what  he  had  done.  Pos- 
sibly they  found  themselves  in  something  of 
the  same  difficulty  as  the  English  Govern- 
ment in  regard  to  the  annexation  of  Scinde. 
They  could  not  perhaps  with  great  safety  to 
themselves  have  ventured  to  be  honest  all  at 
once  ; and  in  any  case  they  did  not  want  to 
give  up  the  protectorate  of  Tahiti.  While  the 
more  hot-headed  on  both  sides  of  the  English 
Channel  were  thus  snarling  at  each  other,  the 
difficulty  was  immensely  complicated  by  the 
seizure  of  a missionary  named  Pritchard, 
who  had  been  our  consul  in  the  island  up  to 
the  deposition  of  Pomare.  A French  senti- 
nel had  been  attacked,  or  was  said  to  have 
been  attacked,  in  the  night,  and  in  conse- 
quence the  French  commandant  seized  Pritch- 
ard in  reprisal,  declaring  him  to  be  “ the 
only  mover  and  instigator  of  disturbances 
among  the  natives.”  Pritchard  was  flung 
into  prison,  and  only  released  to  be  expelled 
from  the  island.  He  came  home  to  Eng- 
land with  his  story  ; and  his  arrival  was  the 
signal  for  an  outburst  of  indignation  all  over 
the  country.  Sir  Robert  Peel  and  Lord  Ab- 
erdeen alike  stigmatized  the  treatment  of 
Pritchard  as  a gross  and  intolerable  outrage  ; 
and  satisfaction  was  demanded  of  the  French 
Government.  The  King  and  M.  Guizot  were 
both  willing  that  full  justice  should  be  done, 
and  both  anxious  to  avoid  any  occasion  of 
ill-feeling  with  England.  The  King  had 
lately  been  receiving  with  effusive  show  of 
affection  a visit  from  our  Queen  in  France, 
and  was  about  to  return  it.  But  so  hot  was 
popular  passion  on  both  sides,  that  it  would 
have  needed  stronger  and  juster  natures  than 
those  of  the  King  and  his  minister  to  venture 
at  once  on  doing  the  right  thing.  It  was  on 
the  last  day  of  the  session  of  1844,  September 
5,  that  Sir  Robert  Peel  was  able  to  announce 
that  the  French  Government  had  agreed  to 
compensate  Pritchard  for  his  sufferings  and 
losses.  Queen  Pomare  was  nominally  re- 
stored to  power,  but  the  French  protection 
proved  as  stringent  as  if  it  were  a sovereign 
rule.  She  might  as  well  have  pulled  down 
her  flag  for  all  the  sovereign  right  it  secured 
to  her.  She  died  thirty-four  years  after,  and 
her  death  recalled  to  the  memory  of  the  Eng- 
lish public  the  long-forgotten  fact  that  she 
had  once  so  nearly  been  the  cause  of  a war 
between  England  and  France. 

The  Ashburton  Treaty  and  the  Oregon 
Treaty  belong  alike  to  the  history  of  Peel’s 
Administration.  The  Ashburton  Treaty 
bears  date  August  9,  1842,  and  arranges 
finally  the  north-western  boundary  between 
the  British  Provinces  of  North  America  and 
the  United  States.  For  many  years  the  want 
of  any  clear  and  settled  understanding  as  to 
the  boundary  line  between  Canada  and  the 
State  of  Maine  had  been  a source  of  some 
disturbance,  and  of  much  controversy.  Ar- 
bitration between  England  and  the  United 
States  had  been  tried  and  failed,  both  parties 
declining  the  award.  Sir  Robert  Peel  sent 
out  Lord  Ashburton,  formerly  Mr.  Baring, 
as  plenipotentiary,  to  Washington,  in  1842, 
and  by  his  intelligent  exertions  an  arrange- 
ment was  come  to  which  appears  to  have 
given  mutual  satisfaction  ever  since,  despite 


of  the  sinister  prophesyings  of  Lord  Palmer" 
ston  at  the  time.  The  Oregon  question  was 
more  complicated,  and  was  the  source  of  a 
longer  controversy.  More  than  once  the  dis- 
pute about  the  boundary  line  in  the  Oregon 
region  had  very  nearly  become  an  occasion 
for  war  between  England  and  the  United 
States.  In  Canning’s  time  there  was  a crisis 
during  which,  to  quote  the  words  of  an  Eng- 
lish statesman,  war  could  have  been  brought 
about  by  the  holding  up  of  a finger.  The 
question  in  dispute  was  as  to  the  boundary 
line  between  English  and  American  territory 
west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  It  had  seemed 
a matter  of  little  importance  at  one  time, 
when  the  country  west  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains was  regarded  by  most  persons  as  little 
better  than  a desert  wild.  But  when  the  vast 
capacities  and  the  splendid  future  of  the  Pa- 
cific slope  began  to  be  recognized,  and  the 
importance  to  us  of  some  station  and  harbor 
there  came  to  be  more  and  more  evident,  the 
dispute  naturally  swelled  into  a question  of 
vital  interest  to  both  nations.  In  1818  an  at- 
tempt at  arrangement  was  made,  but  failed. 
The  two  governments  then  agreed  to  leave 
the  disputed  regions  to  joint  occupation  for 
ten  years,  after  which  the  subject  was  to  be 
opened  again.  When  the  end  of  the  first 
term  came  near,  Canning  did  his  best  to 
bring  about  a settlement,  but  failed.  The 
dispute  involved  the  ownership  of  the  mouth 
of  the  Columbia  River,  and  of  the  noble  isl- 
and which  bears  the  name  of  Vancouver,  off 
the  shore  of  British  Columbia,  The  joint  oc- 
cupancy was  renewed  for  an  indefinite  time  ; 
but  in  1843,  the  President  of  the  United 
States  somewhat  peremptorily  called  for  a 
final  settlement  of  the  boundary.  The  ques- 
tion was  eagerly  taken  up  by  excitable  poli- 
ticians in  the  American  House  of  Represent- 
atives. For  more  than  two  years  the  Ore- 
gon question  became  a party  cry  in  America. 
With  a large  proportion  of  the  American 
public,  including,  of  course,  nearly  all  citi- 
zens of  Irish  birth  or  extraction,  any  Presi- 
dent would  have  been  popular  beyond  meas- 
ure who  had  forced  a war  on  England.  Calm- 
er and  wiser  counsels  prevailed,  however, 
on  both  sides.  Lord  Aberdeen,  our  Foreign 
Secretary,  was  especially  moderate  and  con- 
ciliatory. He  offered  a compromise  which 
was  at  last  accepted.  On  June  15,  1846,  the 
Oregon  Treaty  settled  the  question  for  that 
time  at  least ; the  dividing  line  was  to  be 
‘ ‘ the  forty-ninth  degree  of  latitude,  from  the 
Rocky  Mountains  west  to  the  middle  of  the 
channel  separating  Vancouver’s  Island  from 
the  mainland  ; thence  southerly  through  the 
middle  of  the  channel  and  of  Fuca’s  Straits 
to  the  Pacific.”  The  channel  and  straits 
were  to  be  free,  as  also  the  great  northern 
branch  of  the  Columbia  River.  In  other 
words,  Vancouver’s  Island  remained  to  Great 
Britain,  and  the  free  navigation  of  the  Co- 
lumbia River  was  secured.  We  have  said 
that  the  question  was  settled,  “for  that 
time  because  an  important  part  of  it  came 
up  again  for  settlement  many  years  after. 
The  commissioners  appointed  to  determine 
that  portion  of  the  boundary  which  was  to 
run  southerly  through  the  middle  of  the 
channel  were  unable  to  come  to  any  agree- 
ment on  the  subject,  and  the  divergence  of 
the  claims  made  on  one  side  and  the  other 
constituted  a new  question,  which  became  a 
part  of  the  famous  Treaty  of  Washington  in 
1871,  and  was  finally  settled  by  the  arbitra- 
tion of  the  Emperor  of  Germany.  But  it  is 
much  to  the  honor  of  the  Peel  Administra- 
tion that  a dispute  which  had  for  years  been 
charged  with  possibilities  of  war,  and  had 
become  a stock  subject  of  political  agitation 
in  America,  should  have  been  so  far  settled 
as  to  be  removed  for  ever  after  out  of  the 
category  of  disputes  which  suggest  an  appeal 
to  arms.  This  was  one  of  the  last  acts  of 
Peel's  Government,  and  it  was  not  the  least 
of  the  great  things  he  had  done.  We  have 
soon  to  tell  how  it  came  about  that  it  was 
one  of  his  latest  triumphs,  and  how  an  Ad- 


44 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


ministration  which  had  come  into  power  with 
such  splendid  promise,  and  had  accomplished 
so  much  in  such  various  fields  of  legislation, 
was  brought  so  suddenly  to  a fall.  The 
story  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  and  im- 
portant chapters  in  the  history  of  English  pol- 
itics and  parties. 

During  Peel’s  time  we  catch  a last  glimpse 
of  the  famous  Arctic  navigator,  Sir  John 
Franklin.  He  sailed  on  the  expedition 
which  was  doomed  to  be  his  last,  on  May 
26,  1845,  with  his  two  vessels,  Erebus  and 
Terror.  Not  much  more  is  heard  of  him  as 
among  the  living.  We  may  say  of  him  as 
Carlyle  says  of  La  Perouse,  The  brave  nav- 
igator goes  and  returns  not ; the  seekers 
search  far  seas  for  him  in  vain  ; only  some 
mournful  mysterious  shadow  of  him  hovers 
long  in  all  heads  and  hearts.” 

CHAPTER  XIY. 

FREE  TRADE  AND  THE  LEAGUE. 

Few  chapters  of  political  history  in  modern 
times  have  given  occasion  for  more  contro- 
versy than  that  which  contains  the  story  of 
Sir  Robert  Peel’s  Administration  in  its  deal- 
ing with  the  Corn  Laws.  Told  in  the  brief- 
est form,  the  story  is  that  Peel  came  into 
office  in  1841  to  maintain  the  Corn  Laws,  and 
that  in  1846  he  repealed  them.  The  contro- 
versy as  to  the  wisdom  or  unwisdom  of  re- 
pealing the  Corn  Laws  has  long  since  come 
to  an  end.  They  who  were  the  uncompro- 
mising opponents  of  Free  Trade  at  that  time 
are  proud  to  call  themselves  its  uncompro- 
mising zealots  now.  Indeed,  there  is  no  more 
chance  of  a reaction  against  Free  Trade  in 
England  than  there  is  of  a reaction  against 
the  rule  of  three.  But  the  controversy  still 
exists,  and  will  probably  always  be  in  dis- 
pute, as  to  the  conduct  of  Sir  Robert  Peel. 

The  Melbourne  Ministry  fell,  as  we  have 
seen,  in  consequence  of  a direct  vote  of  want 
of  confidence  moved  by  their  leading  oppo- 
nent, and  the  return  of  a majority  hostile  to 
them  at  the  general  election  that  followed. 
The  vote  of  want  of  confidence  was  levelled 
against  their  financial  policy,  especially 
against  Lord  John  Russell’s  proposal  to  sub- 
stitute a fixed  duty  of  eight  shillings  for 
Peel’s  sliding  scale.  Sir  Robert  Peel  came 
into  office,  and  he  introduced  a reorganized 
scheme  of  a sliding  scale,  reducing  the  du- 
ties and  improving  the  system,  but  maintain- 
ing the  principle.  Lord  John  Russell  pro- 
posed an  amendment  declaring  that  the 
House  of  Commons,  ‘ ‘ considering  the  evils 
which  have  been  caused  by  the  present  Corn 
Laws,  and  especially  by  the  fluctuation  of 
the  graduated  or  sliding  scale,  is  not  prepar- 
ed to  adopt  the  measure  of  her  Majesty’s 
Government,  which  is  founded  on  the  same 
principles,  and  is  likely  to  be  attended  by 
similar  results.”  The  amendment  was  re- 
jected by  a large  majority,  no  less  than  one 
hundred  and  twenty-three.  But  the  ques- 
tion between  Free  Trade  and  Protection  was 
even  more  distinctly  raised.  Mr.  Villiers 
proposed  another  amendment  declaring  for 
the  entire  abolition  of  all  duties  on  grain. 
Only  ninety  votes  were  given  for  the  amend- 
ment, while  three  hundred  and  ninety-three 
were  recorded  against  it.  Sir  Robert  Peel’s 
Government,  therefore,  came  into  power  dis- 
tinctly pledged  to  uphold  the  principle  of 
protection  for  home-grown  grain.  Four 
years  after  this  Sir  Robert  Peel  proposed  the 
total  abolition  of  the  corn  duties.  For  this 
he  was  denounced  by  some  members  of  his 
party  in  language  more  fierce  and  unmeasured 
than  ever  since  has  been  applied  to  any  lead- 
ing statesman.  Mr.  Gladstone  was  never  as- 
sailed by  the  staunchest  supporter  of  the  Irish 
Church  in  words  so  vituperative  as  those 
which  rated  Sir  Robert  Peel  for  his  supposed 
apostasy.  One  eminent  person  at  least  made 
his  first  fame  as  a Parliamentary  orator  by 
his  denunciations  of  the  great  Minister  whom 
he  had  previously  eulogized  and  supported. 

‘‘The  history  of  agricultural  distress,”  it 
has  been  well  observed,  “ is  the  history  of 


agricultural  abundance.”  This  looks  at  first 
sight  a paradox  ; but  nothing  can  in  reality 
be  more  plain  and  less  paradoxical. 
“ Whenever,”  to  follow  out  the  passage, 
“ Providence,  through  the  blessing  of  genial 
seasons,  fills  the  nation’s  stores  with  plen- 
teousness, then  and  then  only  has  the  cry  of 
ruin  to  the  cultivator  been  proclaimed  as  the 
one  great  evil  for  legislation  to  repress.” 
This  is  indeed  the  very  meaning  of  the  prin- 
ciple of  protection.  When  the  commodity 
which  the  protected  interest  has  to  dispose  of 
is  so  abundant  as  to  be  easily  attained  by  the 
common  body  of  consumers,  then  of  course 
the  protected  interest  is  injured  in  its  partic- 
ular way  of  making  money,  and  expects  the 
State  to  do  something  to  secure  it  in  the 
principal  advantage  of  its  monopoly.  The 
greater  quantity  of  grain  a good  harvest 
brings  for  the  benefit  of  all  the  people,  the 
less  the  price  the  corn-grower  can  charge 
for  it.  His  interest  as  a monopolist  is  always 
and  inevitably  opposed  to  the  interest  of  the 
community. 

But  it  is  easy  even  now,  when  we  have  al- 
most forgotten  the  days  of  protection,  to  see 
that  the  corn -grower  is  not  likely  either  to 
recognize  or  to  admit  this  conflict  of  interests 
between  his  protection  and  the  public  wel- 
fare. Apart  from  the  natural  tendency  of 
every  man  to  think  that  that  which  does  him 
good  must  do  good  to  the  community,  there 
was  undoubtedly  something  very  fascinating 
in  the  theory  of  protection.  It  had  a charm- 
ing give  and  take,  live  and  let  live,  air  about 
it.  ‘‘You  give  me  a little  more  than  the 
market  price  for  my  corn,  and  don’t  you  see 
I shall  be  able  to  buy  all  the  more  of  your 
cloth  and  tea  and  sugar,  or  to  pay  you  the 
higher  rent  for  your  land?”  Such  a com- 
pact seems  reasonable  and  tempting.  Al- 
most up  to  our  own  time  the  legislation  of 
the  country  was  in  the  hands  of  the  classes 
who  had  more  to  do  with  the  growing  of 
corn  and  the  ownership  of  land  than  with  the 
making  of  cotton  and  the  working  of  ma- 
chinery. The  great  object  of  legislation  and 
of  social  compacts  of  whatever  kind  seemed 
to  be  to  keep  the  rents  of  the  landowners  and 
the  prices  of  the  farmers  up  to  a comfortable 
standard.  It  is  not  particularly  to  the  dis- 
credit of  the  landlords  and  the  farmers  that 
this  was  so.  We  have  seen  in  later  times 
how  every  class  in  succession  has  resisted  the 
movement  of  the  principle  of  free  trade 
when  it  came  to  be  applied  to  its  own  partic- 
ular interests.  The  paper  manufacturers 
liked  it  as  little  in  1860  as  the  landlords  and 
farmers  had  done  fifteen  years  earlier. 
When  the  cup  comes  to  be  commended  to 
the  lips  of  each  interest  in  turn,  we  always 
find  that  it  is  received  as  a poisoned  chalice, 
and  taken  with  much  shuddering  and  pas- 
sionate protestation.  The  particular  advan- 
tage possessed  by  vested  interests  in  the 
Corn  Laws  was  that  for  a long  time  the  land- 
lords possessed  all  the  legislative  power  and 
all  the  p?-estige  as  well.  There  was  a certain 
reverence  and  sanctity  about  the  ownership 
of  land,  with  its  hereditary  descent  and  its 
patriarchal  dignities,  which  the  manufacture 
of  paper  could  not  pretend  to  claim. 

If  it  really  were  true  that  the  legitimate  in- 
comes or  the  legitimate  influence  of  the  land- 
lord class  in  England  went  down  in  any  way 
because  of  the  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws,  it 
would  have  to  be  admitted  that  the  landlords, 
like  the  aristocrats  before  the  French  Revo- 
lution, had  done  something  themselves  to  en- 
courage the  growth  of  new  and  disturbing 
ideas.  Before  the  Revolution,  free  thought 
and  the  equality  and  brotherhood  of  man 
were  beginning  to  be  pet  doctrines  among  the 
French  nobles  and  among  their  wives  and 
daughters.  It  was  the  whim  of  the  hour  to 
talk  Rousseau,  and  to  affect  indifference  to 
rank  and  a general  faith  in  a good  time  com- 
ing of  equality  and  brotherhood.  In  some- 
thing of  the  same  fashion  the  aristocracy  of 
England  were  for  some  time  before  the  re- 
peal of  the  Com  Laws  illustrating  a sort  of 


revival  of  patriarchal  ideas  about  the  duties 
of  property.  The  influence  was  stirring 
everywhere.  Oxford  was  beginning  to  busy 
itself  in  the  revival  of  the  olden  influence  of 
the  Church.  The  Young  England  party,  as 
they  were  then  called,  were  ardent  to  restore 
the  good  old  days  when  the  noble  was  the 
father  of  the  poor  and  the  chief  of  his  neigh- 
borhood. All  manner  of  pretty  whimsies 
were  caught  up  with  this  ruling  idea  to  give 
them  an  appearance  of  earnest  purpose. 
The  young  landlord  exhibited  himself  in  the 
attitude  of  a protector,  patron,  and  friend  to 
all  his  tenants.  Doles  were  formally  given 
at  stated  hours  to  all  who  would  come  for 
them  to  the  castle  gate.  Young  noblemen 
played  cricket  with  the  peasants  on  their  es- 
tate, and  the  Saturnian  age  was  believed  by 
a good  many  persons  to  be  returning  for  the 
express  benefit  of  Old,  or  rather  of  Young, 
England.  There  was  something  like  a party 
being  formed  in  Parliament  for  the  realiza- 
tion of  Young  England’s  idyllic  purposes. 
It  comprised  among  its  numbers  several 
more  or  less  gifted  youths  of  rank,  who  were 
full  of  enthusiasm  and  poetic  aspirations  and 
nonsense  ; and  it  had  the  encouragement  and 
support  of  one  man  of  genius,  who  had  no 
natural  connection  with  the  English  aristoc- 
racy, but  who  was  afterwards  destined  to  be 
the  successful  leader  of  the  Conservative  and 
aristocratic  party  ; to  be  its  saviour  when  it 
was  all  but  down  in  the  dust ; to  guide  it  to 
victory,  and  make  it  once  more,  for  the  time 
at  least,  supreme  in  the  political  life  of  the 
country.  This  brilliant  champion  of  Con- 
servatism has  often  spoken  of  the  repeal  of 
the  Corn  Laws  as.  the  fall  of  the  landlord 
class  in  England.  If  the  landlords  fell,  it 
must  be  said  of  them,  as  has  been  fairly  said 
of  many  a dynasty,  that  they  never  deserved 
better  on  the  whole  than  just  at  the  time 
when  the  blow  struck  them  down. 

The  famous  Corn  Law  of  1815  was  a copy 
of  the  Corn  Law  of  1670.  The  former  meas- 
ure imposed  a duty  on  the  importation  of 
foreign  grain  which  amounted  to  prohibition. 
Wheat  might  be  exported  upon  the  payment 
of  one  shilling  per  quarter  customs  duty  ; but 
importation  was  practically  prohibited  until 
the  price  of  wheat  had  reached  eighty  shil- 
lings a quarter.  The  Corn  Law  of  1815  was 
hurried  through  Parliament,  absolutely  clos- 
ing the  ports  against  the  importation  of  for- 
eign grain  until  the  price  of  our  home-grown 
grain  had  reached  the  magic  figure  of  eighty 
shillings  a quarter.  It  was  hurried  through, 
despite  the  most  earnest  petitions  from  the 
commercial  and  manufacturing  classes.  A 
great  deal  of  popular  disturbance  attended 
the  passing  of  the  measure.  There  were  riots 
in  London,  and  the  houses  of  several  of  the 
supporters  of  the  bill  were  attacked.  Incen- 
diary fires  blazed  in  many  parts  of  the  coun- 
try. In  the  Isle  of  Ely  there  were  riots  which 
lasted  for  two  days  and  two  nights,  and  the 
aid  of  the  military  had  to  be  called  in  to  sup- 
press them.  Five  persons  were  hanged  as 
the  result  of  these  disturbances.  One  might 
excuse  a demagogue  who  compared  the 
event  to  the  suppression  of  some  of  the  food 
riots  in  France  just  before  the  Revolution, 
of  which  we  only  read  that  the  people — the 
poor,  that  is  to  say — turned  out  demanding 
bread,  and  the  ringleaders  were  immediately 
hanged,  and  there  was  an  end  of  the  matter. 
After  the  Corn  Law  of  1815,  thus  ominously 
introduced,  there  were  Sliding  Scale  Acts, 
having  for  their  business  to  establish  a vary- 
ing system  of  duty,  so  that,  according  as  the 
price  of  home-produced  wheat  rose  to  a cer- 
tain height, the  duty  on  imported  wheat  sank 
in  proportion.  The  principle  of  all  these 
measures  was  the  same.  It  was  founded  on 
the  assumption  that  the  corn  grew  for  the 
benefit  of  the  grower  first  of  all ; and  that 
until  he  had  been  secured  in  a handsome  pro- 
fit the  public  at  large  had  no  right  to  any  re- 
duction in  the  cost  of  food.  When  the  har- 
vest was  a good  one,  and  the  golden  grain 
was  plenty,  then  the  soul  of  the  grower  was 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


45 


afraid,  and  lie  called  out  to  Parliament  to 
protect  him  against  the  calamity  of  having  to 
sell  his  corn  any  cheaper  than  in  years  of 
famine.  He  did  not  see  all  the  time  that  if 
the  prosperity  of  the  country  in  general  was 
enhanced,  he  too  must  come  to  benefit  by  it. 

Naturally  it  was  in  places  like  Manchester 
that  the  fallacy  of  all  this  theory  was  first 
commonly  perceived  and  most  warmly  re- 
sented. The  Manchester  manufacturers  saw 
that  the  customers  for  their  goods  were  to  be 
found  in  all  parts  of  the  world  ; and  they 
knew  that  at  every  turn  they  were  hampered 
in  their  dealings  with  the  customers  by  the 
system  of  protective  duties.  They  wanted 
to  sell  their  goods  wherever  they  could  find 
buyers,  and  they  chafed  at  any  barrier  be- 
tween them  and  the  sale.  Manchester,  from 
the  time  of  its  first  having  Parliamentary  rep- 
resentation— only  a few  years  before  the 
foundation  of  the  Anti-Corn-Law  League — 
had  always  spoken  out  for  Free  Trade.  The 
fascinating  sophism  which  had  shell  charms 
for  other  communities,  that  by  paying  more 
than  was  actually  necessary  for  everything 
all  round,  Dick  enriched  Tom,  while  Tom 
was  at  the  same  time  enriching  Dick,  had  no 
charms  for  the  intelligence  and  the  practical 
experience  of  Manchester.  The  close  of  the 
year  1836  was  a period  of  stagnant  trade  and 
general  depression,  arising,  in  some  parts  of 
the  country,  to  actual  and  severe  suffering. 
Some  members  of  Parliament  and  other  in- 
fluential men  were  stricken  with  the  idea, 
which  it  does  not  seem  to  have  required 
much  strength  of  observation  to  foster,  that 
it  could  not  be  for  the  advantage  of  the  coun- 
try in  general  to  have  the  price  of  bread  very 
high  at  a time  when  wages  were  very  low 
and  work  was  scarce.  A movement  against 
the  Corn  Laws  began  in  London.  An  Anti- 
Corn-Law  Association  on  a small  scale  was 
formed.  Its  list  of  members  bore  the  names 
of  more  than  twenty  members  of  Parliament, 
and  for  a time  the  society  had  a look  of  vigor 
about  it.  It  came  to  nothing,  however. 
London  has  never  been  found  an  effective 
nursery  of  agitation.  It  is  too  large  to  have 
any  central  interest  or  source  of  action.  It 
is  too  dependent  socially  and  economically 
on  the  patronage  of  the  higher  and  wealthier 
classes.  London  has  never  been  to  England 
what  Paris  has  been  to  France.  It  has  hard- 
ly ever  made  or  represented  thoroughly  the 
public  opinion  of  England  during  any  great 
crisis.  A new  centre  of  operations  soon  had 
to  be  sought,  and  various  causes  combined 
to  make  Lancashire  the  proper  place.  In  the 
year  1838  the  town  of  Bolton-le-Moors,  in 
Lancashire,  was  the  victim  of  a terrible  com- 
mercial crisis.  Thirty  out  of  the  fifty  man- 
ufacturing establishments  which  the  town 
contained  were  closed  ; nearly  a fourth  of  all 
the  houses  of  business  were  closed  and  actu- 
ally deserted  ; and  more  than  five  thousand 
workmen  were  without  homes  or  means  of 
subsistence.  All  the  intelligence  and  energy 
of  Lancashire  was  roused.  One  obvious 
guarantee  against  starvation  was  cheap 
bread,  and  cheap  bread  meant  of  course  the 
abolition  of  the  Corn  Laws,  for  these  laws 
were  constructed  on  the  principle  that  it  was 
necessary  to  keep  bread  dear.  A meeting 
was  held  in  Manchester  to  consider  measures 
necessary  to  be  adopted  for  bringing  about 
the  complete  repeal  of  these  laws.  The 
Manchester  Chamber  of  Commerce  adopted 
a petition  to  Parliament  against  the  Corn 
Laws.  The  Anti-Corn-Law  agitation  had 
been  fairly  launched. 

From  that  time  it  grew,  and  grew  in  impor- 
tance and  strength.  ^ Meetings'” were  held  in 
various  towns  of  England  and  Scotland.  {As- 
sociations were  formed  everywhere  to  co- 
operate with  the  movement,  which  had  its 
head-quarters  in  Manchester.  In  Newall’s 
Buildings,  Market  Street,  Manchester,  the 
work  of  the  League  was  really  done  for 
years.  The  leaders  of  the  movement  gave 
up  their  time  day  by  day  to  its  service.  The 
League  had  to  encounter  a great  deal  of  ra- 


ther fierce  opposition  from  the  Chartists,  who  ! 
loudly  proclaimed  that  the  whole  movement 
was  only  meant  to  entrap  them  once  more  into 
an  alliance  with  the  middle  classes  and  the 
employers,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Reform  Bill, 
in  order  that  when  they  had  been  made  the 
cat’s-paw  again  they  might  again  be  thrown 
contemptuously  aside.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  League  had  from  the  first  the  cordial  co- 
operation of  Daniel  O'Connell,  who  became 
one  of  their  principal  orators  when  they  held 
meetings  in  the  metropolis.  They  issued 
pamphlets  by  hundreds  of  thousands,  and 
sent  lecturers  all  over  the  country  explaining 
the  principles  of  Free  Trade  A gigantic 
propaganda  of  Free  Trade  opinions  was 
called  into  existence.  Money  was  raised  by 
the  holding  of  bazaars  in  Manchester  and  in 
London,  and  by  calling  for  subscriptions.  A 
bazaar  in  Manchester  brought  in  ten  thou- 
sand pounds  ; one  in  London  raised  rather 
more  than  double  that  sum,  not  including 
the  subscriptions  that  were  contributed.  A 
Free  Trade  Hall  was  built  in  Manchester. 
This  building  had  an  interesting  history  full 
of  good  omen  for  the  cause.  The  ground  on 
which  the  hall  was  erected  was  the  property 
of  Mr.  Cobden,  and  was  placed  by  him  at  the 
disposal  of  the  League.  That  ground  was 
the  scene  of  what  was  known  in  Manchester 
as  the  Massacre  of  Peterloo.  On  August  16, 
1819,  a meeting  of  Manchester  Reformers 
was  held  on  that  spot,  which  was  dispersed 
by  an  attack  of  soldiers  and  militia,  with  the 
loss  of  many  lives.  The  memory  of  that  day 
rankled  in  the  hearts  of  the  Manchester  Lib- 
erals for  long  after,  and  perhaps  no  better 
means  could  be  found  for  purifying  the 
ground  from  the  stain  and  the  shame  of  such 
bloodshed  than  its  dedication  by  the  modem 
apostle  of  peace  and  Free  Trade  as  a site 
whereon  to  build  a hall  sacred  to  the  pro- 
mulgation of  his  favorite  doctrines. 

The  times  were  peculiarly  favorable  to  the 
new  sort  of  propaganda  which  came  into  be- 
ing with  the  Anti-Corn-Law  League.  A few 
years  before  such  an  agitation  would  hardly 
have  found  the  means  of  making  its  influence 
felt  all  over  the  country.  The  very  reduc- 
tion of  the  cost  of  postage  alone  must  have 
facilitated  its  labors  to  an  extent  beyond  cal- 
culation. The  inundation  of  the  country 
with  pamphlets,  tracts,  and  reports  of 
speeches  would  have  been  scarcely  possible 
under  the  old  system,  and  would  in  any  case 
have  swallowed  up  a far  larger  amount  of 
money  than  even  the  League  with  its  ample 
resources  would  have  been  able  to  supply. 
In  all  parts  of  the  country  railways  were  be- 
ing opened,  and  these  enabled  the  lecturers  of 
the  League  to  hasten  from  town  to  town  and 
to  keep  the  cause  always  alive  in  the  popular 
mind.  All  these  advantages  and  many 
others  might,  however,  have  proved  of  little 
avail  if  the  League  had  not  from  the  first 
been  in  the  hands  of  men  who  seemed  as  if 
they  came  by  special  appointment  to  do  its 
work.  Great  as  the  work  was  which  the 
League  did,  it  will  be  remembered  in  Eng- 
land almost  as  much  because  of  the  men 
who  won  the  success  as  on  account  of  the 
success  itself. 

The  nominal  leader  of  the  Free  Trade  party 
in  Parliament  was  for  many  years  Mr.  Charles 
Yilliers,  a man  of  aristocratic  family  and 
surroundings,  of  remarkable  ability,  and  of 
the  steadiest  fidelity  to  the  cause  he  had  un- 
dertaken. Nothing  is  a more  familiar  phe- 
nomenon in  the  history  of  English  political 
agitation  than  the  aristocrat  who  assumes  the 
popular  cause  and  cries  out  for  the  “ rights” 
of  the  “unenfranchised  millions.”  But  it 
was  something  new  to  find  a man  of  Mr.  Vil- 
liers’  class  devoting  himself  to  a cause  so  en- 
tirely practical  and  business-like  as  that  of 
the  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws.  Mr.  Yilliers 
brought  forward  for  several  successive  ses- 
sions in  the  House  of  Commons  a motion  in 
favor  of  the  total  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws. 
His  eloquence  and  his  argumentative  power 
served  the  great  purpose  of  drawing  the  at- 


tention of  the  country  to  the  whole  question, 
and  making  converts  to  the  principle  he  ad- 
vocated. The  House  of  Commons  has  al- 
ways of  late  years  been  the  best  platform 
from  which  to  address  the  country.  In  po- 
litical agitation  it  has  thus  been  made  to  pre- 
pare the  way  for  the  schemes  of  legislation 
which  it  has  itself  always  begun  by  reprobat- 
ing. But  Mr.  Villiers  might  have  gone  on 
for  all  his  life  dividing  the  House  of  Com- 
mons on  the  question  of  Free  Trade,  with- 
out getting  much  nearer  to  his  object,  if  it 
were  not  for  the  manner  in  which  the  cause 
was  taken  up  by  the  country,  and  more  par- 
ticularly by  the  great  manufacturing  towns 
of  the 'North.  Until  the  passing  of  Lord 
Grey’s  Reform  Bill  these  towns  had  no  rep- 
resentation in  Parliament.  They  seemed 
destined  after  that  event  to  make  up  for  their 
long  exclusion  from  representative  influence 
by  taking  the  government  of  the  country  into 
their  own  hands.  Of  late  years  they  have 
lost  some  of  their  relative  influence.  They 
have  not  now  all  the  power  that  for  no  in- 
considerable time  they  undoubtedly  possess- 
ed. The  reforms  they  chiefly  aimed  at  have 
been  carried,  and  the  spirit  which  in  times  of 
stress  and  struggle  kept  their  populations  al- 
most of  one  mind  has  less  necessity  of  exist- 
ence now.  Manchester,  Birmingham,  and 
Leeds  are  no  whit  less  important  to  the  life 
of  the  nation  now  than  they  were  before  Free 
Trade.  But  their  supremacy  does  not  exist 
now  as  it  did  then.  At  that  time  it  was  town 
against  country ; Manchester  representing 
the  town,  and  the  whole  Conservative  (at  one 
period  almost  the  whole  landowning)  body 
representing  the  country.  The  Manchester 
school,  as  it  was  called,  then  and  for  long 
after  had  some  teachers  and  leaders  who 
were  of  themselves  capable  of  making  any 
school  powerful  and  respected.  With  the 
Manchester  school  began  a new  kind  of  pop- 
ular agitation.  Up  to  that  time  agitation 
meant  appeal  to  passion,  and  lived  by  pro- 
voking passion.  Its  cause  might  be  good  or 
bad,  but  the  way  of  promoting  it  was  the 
same.  The  Manchester  school  introduced 
the  agitation  which  appealed  to  reason  and 
argument  only  ; which  stirred  men’s  hearts 
with  figures  of  arithmetic,  rather  than  fig- 
ures of  speech,  and  which  converted  mob 
meetings  to  political  economy. 

The  real  leader  of  the  movement  was  Mr. 
Richard  Cobden.  Mr.  Cobden  was  a man 
belonging  to  the  yeoman  class.  He  had  re- 
ceived but  a moderate  education.  His  father 
dying  while  the  great  Free  Trader  was  still 
young,  Richard  Cobden  was  taken  in  charge 
by  an  uncle,  who  had  a wholesale  warehouse 
in  the  City  of  London,  and  who  gave  him 
employment  there.  Cobden  afterwards  be- 
came a ^partner  in  a Manchester  printed  cot- 
ton factory  ; and  he  travelled  occasionally  on 
the  commercial  business  of  this  establish- 
ment. He  had  a great  liking  for  travel ; but 
not  by  any  means  as  the  ordinary  tourist  trav- 
els ; the  interest  of  Cobden  was  not  in  scen- 
ery, or  in  art,  or  in  ruins,  but  in  men.  He 
studied  the  condition  of  countries  with  a 
view  to  the  manner  in  which  it  affected  the 
men  and  women  of  the  present,  and  through 
them  was  likely  to  affect  the  future.  On 
everything  that  he  saw  he  turned  a quick 
and  intelligent  eye  ; and  he  saw  for  himself 
and  thought  for  himself.  Wherever  he  went 
he  wanted  to  learn  something.  He  had  in 
abundance  that  peculiar  faculty  which  some 
great  men  of  widely  different  stamp  from  him 
and  from  each  other  have  possessed ; of 
which  Goethe  frankly  boasted,  and  which 
Mirabeau  had  more  largely  than  he  was  al- 
ways willing  to  acknowledge  ; the  faculty 
which  exacts  from  every  one  with  whom  its 
owner  comes  into  contact  some  contribution 
to  his  stock  of  information  and  to  his  advan- 
tage. Cobden  could  learn  something  from 
everybody.  It  is  doubtful  whether  he  ever 
came  even  into  momentary  acquaintance 
with  any  one  whom  he  did  not  compel  to 
yield  him  something  in  the  way  of  informa- 


46 


A HISTORY  OP  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


tion.  He  travelled  very  widely  for  a time 
when  travelling  was  more  difficult  work 
than  it  is  at  present.  He  made  himself  famil- 
iar with  most  of  the  countries  of  Europe, 
with  many  parts  of  the  East,  and,  what  was 
then  a rarer  accomplishment,  with  the 
United  States  and  Canada.  He  did  not 
make  the  familiar  grand  tour  and  then  dis- 
miss the  places  he  had  seen  from  his  active 
memory.  He  studied  them  and  visited 
many  of  them  again  to  compare  early  with 
later  impressions.  This  was  in  itself  an  ed- 
ucation of  the  highest  value  for  the  career  he 
proposed  to  pursue.  When  he  was  about 
thirty  years  of  age  he  began  to  acquire  a cer- 
tain reputation  as  the  author  of  pamphlets 
directed  against  some  of  the  pet  doctrines  of 
old-fashioned  statesmanship  ; the  balance  of 
power  in  Europe  ; the  necessity  of  maintain- 
ing a State  Church  in  Ireland  ; the  impor- 
tance of  allowing  no  European  quarrel  to  go 
on  without  England’s  intervention ; and 
similar  dogmas.  Mr.  Cobden’s  opinions 
then  were  very  much  as  they  continued  to 
the  day  of  his  death.  He  seemed  to  have 
come  to  the  maturity  of  his  convictions  all  at 
once,  and  to  have  passed  through  no  further 
change  either  of  growth  or  of  decay.  But 
whatever  might  be  said  then  or  now  of  the 
doctrines  he  maintained,  there  could  be  only 
one  opinion  as  to  the  skill  and  force  which 
upheld  them  with  pen  as  well  as  tongue. 
The  tongue,  however,  was  his  best  weapon. 
If  oratory  were  a business  and  not  an  art — 
that  is,  if  its  test  were  its  success  rather  than 
its  form — then  it  might  be  contended  reason- 
ably enough  that  Mr.  Cobden  was  one  of  the 
greatest  orators  England  has  ever  known. 
Nothing  could  exceed  the  persuasiveness  of 
his  style.  His  manner  was  simple,  sweet, 
and  earnest.  It  was  persuasive,  but  it  had 
not  the  sort  of  persuasiveness  which  is  mere- 
ly a better  kind  of  plausibility.  It  persuad- 
ed by  convincing.  It  was  transparently 
sincere.  The  light  of  its  convictions  shone 
all  through  it.  It  aimed  at  the  reason  and 
the  judgment  of  the  listener,  and  seemed  to 
be  convincing  him  to  his  own  interest  against 
his  prejudices.  Cobden’s  style  was  almost 
exclusively  conversational,  but  he  had  a 
clear,  well-toned  voice,  with  a quiet  unassum- 
ing power  in  it  which  enabled  him  to  make 
his  words  heard  distinctly  and  without  effort 
all  through  the  great  meetings  he  had  often 
to  address.  His  speeches  were  full  of 
variety.  He  illustrated  every  argument  by 
something  drawn  from  his  personal  observa- 
tion or  from  reading,  and  his  illustrations 
were  always  striking,  appropriate,  and  in- 

Iteresting.  He  had  a large  amount  of  bright 
and  winning  humor,  and  he  spoke  the  sim- 
plest and  purest  English.  He  never  used  an 
unnecessary  sentence  or  failed  for  a single 
moment  to  make  his  meaning  clear.  Many 
strong  opponents  of  Mr.  Cobden’s  opinions 
confessed  even  during  his  lifetime  that  they 
sometimes  found  with  dismay  their  most 
cherished  convictions  crumbling  away  be- 
neath his  flow  of  easy  argument.  In  the 
stormy  times  of  national  passion  Mr.  Cobden 
was  less  powerful.  When  the  question  was 
one  to  be  settled  by  the  rules  that  govern 
man’s  substantial  interests,  or  even  by  the 
standing  rules,  if  such  an  expression  may  be 
allowed,  of  morality,  then  Cobden  was  un- 
equalled. So  long  as  the  controversy  could 
be  settled  after  this  fashion — “ I will  show 
you  that  in  such  a course  you  are  acting  in- 
juriously to  your  own  interests  or  “ You 
are  doing  what  a fair  and  just  man  ought  not 
to  do” — so  long  as  argument  of  that  kind 
could  sway  the  conduct  of  men,  then  there 
was  no  one  who  could  convince  as  Cobden 
could.  But  when  the  hour  and  mood  of  pas- 
sion came,  and  a man  or  a nation  said,  ‘ ‘ I 
do  not  care  any  longer  whether  this  is  for  my 
interest  or  not — I don’t  care  whether  you  call 
it  right  or  wrong — this  way  my  instincts 
drive  me,  and  this  way  I am  going” — then 
Mr.  Cobden’s  teaching,  the  very  perfection  as 
it  was  of  common  sense  and  fab-  play,  was 


out  of  season.  It  could  not  answer  feeling 
with  feeling.  It  was  not  able  to  “ over- 
crow,” in  the  word  of  Shakespeare  and 
Spenser,  one  emotion  by  another.  The  de- 
fect of  Mr.  Cobden’s  style  of  mind  and  tem- 
per is  fitly  illustrated  in  the  deficiency  of  his 
method  of  argument.  His  sort  of  education, 
his  modes  of  observation,  his  way  of  turning 
travel  to  account,  all  went  together  to  make 
him  the  man  he  was.  The  apostle  of  com- 
mon sense  and  fair  dealing,  he  had  no  sym- 
pathy with  )he  passions  of  men  ; he  did  not 
understand  them  ; they  passed  for  nothing 
in  his  calculations.  His  judgment  of  men 
and  of  nations  was  based  far  too  much  on 
his  knowledge  of  his  own  motives  and  char- 
acter. He  knew  that  in  any  given  case  he 
could  always  trust  himself  to  act  the  part  of 
a just  and  prudent  man  ; and  he  assumed 
that  all  the  world  could  be  governed  by  the 
rules  of  prudence  and  of  equity.  History 
had  little  interest  for  him,  except  as  it  testi- 
fied to  man’s  advancement  and  steady  prog- 
ress, and  furnished  arguments  to  show  that 
men  prospered  by  liberty,  peace,  and  just 
dealings  with  their  neighbors.  He  cared  lit- 
tle or  nothing  for  mere  sentiments.  Even 
where  these  had  their  root  in  some  human 
tendency  that  was  noble  in  itself,  he  did  not 
reverence  them  if  they  seemed  to  stand  in 
the  way  of  men’s  acting  peacefully  and  pru- 
dently. He  did  not  see  why  the  mere  idea  of 
nationality,  for  example,  should  induce  peo- 
ple to  disturb  themselves  by  insurrections 
and  wars,  so  long  as  they  were  tolerably  well 
governed,  and  allowed  to  exist  in  peace  and 
to  make  an  honest  living.  Thus  he  never  rep- 
resented more  than  half  the  English  char- 
acter. He  was  always  out  of  sympathy  with 
his  countrymen  on  some  great  political  ques- 
tion. 

But  he  seemed  as  if  he  were  designed  by 
nature  to  conduct  to  success  such  an  agita- 
tion as  that  against  the  Corn  Laws.  He 
found  some  colleagues  who  were  worthy  of 
him.  His  chief  companion  in  the  campaign 
was  Mr.  Bright.  Mr.  Bright’s  fame  is  not 
so  completely  bound  up  with  the  repeal  of 
the  Corn  Laws,  or  even  with  the  extension 
of  the  suffrage,  as  that  of  Mr.  Cobden.  If 
Mr.  Bright  had  been  on  the  wrong  side  of 
every  cause  he  pleaded  ; if  his  agitation  had 
been  as  conspicuous  for  failure  as  it  was  for 
success,  he  would  still  be  famous  among 
English  public  men.  He  was  what  Mr.  Cob- 
den was  not,  an  orator  of  the  very  highest 
class.  It  is  doubtful  whether  English  public 
life  has  ever  produced  a man  who  possessed 
more  of  the  qualifications  of  a great  orator 
than  Mr.  Bright.  He  had  a commanding 
presence  ; not  indeed  the  stately  and  colossal 
form  of  O’Connell,  but  a massive  figure,  a 
large  head,  a handsome  and  expressive  face. 
His  voice  was  powerful,  resonant,  clear,  with 
a peculiar  vibration  in  it  which  lent  unspeak- 
able effect  to  any  passages  of  pathos  or  of 
scorn.  His  style  of  speaking  was  exactly 
what  a conventional  demagogue’s  ought1  not 
to  be.  It  was  pure  to  austerity  ; it  was 
stripped  of  all  superfluous  ornament.  It 
never  gushed  or  foamed.  It  never  allowed 
itself  to  be  mastered  by  passion.  The  first 
peculiarity  that  struck  the  listener  was  its 
superb  self-restraint.  The  orator  at  his  most 
powerful  passages  appeared  as  if  he  were 
rather  keeping  in  his  strength  than  taxing  it 
with  effort.  His  voice  was  for  the  most  part 
calm  and  measured  ; he  hardly  ever  indulged 
in  much  gesticulation.  He  never  under  the 
pressure  of  whatever  emotion  shouted  or 
stormed.  The  fire  of  his  eloquence  was  a 
white  heat,  intense,  consuming,  but  never 
sparkling  or  sputtering.  He  had  an  admira- 
ble gift  of  humor  and  a keen  ironical  power. 
He  had  read  few  books,  but  of  those  he  read 
he  was  a master.  The  English  Bible  and 
Milton  were  his  chief  studies.  His  style  was 
probably  formed  for  the  most  part  on  the 
Bible  ; for  although  he  may  have  moulded 
his  general  way  of  thinking  and  his  simple 
strong  morality  on  the  lessons  he  found  in 


Milton,  his  mere  language  bore  little  trace  of 
Milton’s  stately  classicism  with  its  Hellenized 
and  Latinized  terminology,  but  was  above  all 
things  Saxon  and  simple.’  Bright  was  a man 
of  the  middle  class.  His  family  were  Quak- 
ers of  a somewhat  austere  mould.  They 
were  manufacturers  of  carpets  in  Rochdale, 
Lancashire,  and  had  made  considerable 
money  in  their  business.  John  Bright  there- 
fore was  raised  above  the  temptations  which 
often  beset  the  eloquent  young  man  who 
takes  up  a democratic  cause  in  a country 
like  ours  ; and  as  our  public  opinion  goes  it 
probably  was  to  his  advantage  when  first  he 
made  his  appearance  in  Parliament  that  he 
was  well  known  to  be  a man  of  some  means, 
and  not  a clever  and  needy  adventurer. 

Mr.  Bright  himself  has  given  an  interest- 
ing account  of  his  first  meeting  with  Mr. 
Cobden  : 

“The  first  time  I became  acquainted  with 
Mr.  Cobden  was  in  connection  with  the  great 
question  of  education.  I went  over  to  Man- 
chester to  call  upon  him  and  invite  him  to 
come  to  Rochdale  to  speak  at  a meeting 
about  to  be  held  in  the  school-room  of  the 
Baptist  Chapel  in  West  Street.  I found  him 
in  his  counting-house.  I told  him  what  I 
wanted  ; his  countenance  lighted  up  with 
pleasure  to  find  that  others  were  working  in 
the  same  cause.  He  without  hesitation 
agreed  to  come.  He  came  and  he  spoke ; 
and  though  he  was  then  so  young  a speaker, 
yet  the  qualities  of  his  speech  were  such  as 
remained  with  him  so  long  as  he  was  able  to 
speak  at  all — clearness,  logic,  a conversation- 
al eloquence,  a persuasiveness  which,  when 
combined  with  the  absolute  truth  there  was 
in  his  eye  and  in  his  countenance,  became  a 
power  it  was  almost  impossible  to  resist.” 

Still  more  remarkable  is  the  description 
Mr.  Bright  has  given  of  Cobden’s  first  ap- 
peal to  him  to  join  in  the  agitation  for  the 
repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws  : 

“I  was  in  Leamington,  and  Mr.  Cobden 
called  on  me.  I was  then  in  the  depths  of 
grief — I may  almost  say  of  despair,  for-  the 
light  and  sunshine  of  my  house  had  been  ex- 
tinguished. All  that  was  left  on  earth  of  my 
young  wife,  except  the  memory  of  a sainted 
life  and  a too  brief  happiness,  was  lying  still 
and  cold  in  the  chamber  above  us.  Mr.  Cob- 
den called  on  me  as  his  friend  and  addressed 
me,  as  you  may  suppose,  with  words  of  con- 
dolence. After  a time  he  looked  up  and 
said  : ‘ There  are  thousands  and  thousands 
of  homes  in  England  at  this  moment  where 
wives  and  mothers  and  children  are  dying  of 
hunger.  Now  when  the  first  paroxysm  of 
your  grief  is  passed,  I would  advise  you  to 
come  with  me,  and  we  will  never  rest  until 
the  Corn  Laws  are  repealed.’  ” 

The  invitation  thus  given  was  cordially 
accepted,  and  from  that  time  dates  the  almost 
unique  fellowship  of  these  two  men,  who 
worked  together  in  the  closest  brotherhood, 
who  loved  each  other  as  not  all  brothers  do, 
who  were  associated  so  closely  in  the  public 
mind  that  until  Cobden’s  death  the  name  of 
one  was  scarcely  ever  mentioned  without  that 
of  the  other.  There  was  something  positively 
romantic  about  their  mutual  attachment. 
Each  led  a noble  life  ; each  was  in  his  own 
way  a man  of  genius  ; each  was  simple  and 
strong.  Rivalry  between  them  would  have 
been  impossible,  although  they  were  every 
day  being  compared  and  contrasted  by  both 
friendly  and  unfriendly  critics.  Their  gifts 
were  admirably  suited  to  make  them  power- 
ful allies.  Each  had  something  that  the 
other  wanted.  Bright  had  no  Cobden’s  win- 
ning persuasiveness  nor  his  surprising  ease 
and  force  of  argument.  But  Cobden  had 
not  anything  like  his  companion’s  oratorical 
power.  He  had  not  the  tones  of  scorn,  of 
pathos,  of  humor,  and  of  passion.  The  two 
together  made  a genuine  power  in  the  House 
of  Commons  and  on  the  platform.  Mr. 
Kinglake,  who  is  as  little  in  sympathy  with 
the  general  political  opinions  of  Cobden  and 
Bright  as  any  man  well  could  be,  has  borne 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


4? 


admirable  testimony  to  their  argumentative 
power  and  to  their  influence  over  the  House 
of  Commons : “ These  two  orators  had 

shown  with  what  a strength,  with  what  a 
masterly  skill,  with  what  patience,  with 
what  a high  courage  they  could  carry  a sci- 
entific truth  through  the  storms  of  politics. 
They  had  shown  that  they  could  arouse  and 
govern  the  assenting  thousands  who  listened 
to  them  with  delight — that  they  could  bend 
the  House  of  Commons  — that  they  could 
press  their  creed  upon  a Prime  Minister,  and 
put  upon  his  mind  so  hard  a stress,  that  after 
a while  he  felt  it  to  be  a torture  and  a vio- 
lence to  his  reason  to  have  to  make  a stand 
against  them.  Nay,  more.  Each  of  these 
gifted  men  had  proved  that  he  could  go 
bravely  into  the  midst  of  angry  opponents, 
could  show  them  their  fallacies  one  by  one, 
destroy  their  favorite  theories  before  their 
very  faces,  and  triumphantly  argue  them 
down.”  It  was  indeed  a scientific  truth 
which  in  the  first  instance  Cobden  and  Bright 
undertook  to  force  upon  the  recognition  of  a 
Parliament  composed  in  great  measure  of 
the  very  men  who  were  taught  to  believe 
that  their  own  personal  and  class  interests 
were  bound  up  with  the  maintenance  of  the 
existing  economical  creed.  Those  who  hold 
that  because  it  was  a scientific  truth  the  task 
of  its  advocates  ought  to  have  been  easy,  will 
do  well  to  observe  "the  success  of  the  resist- 
ance which  has  been  thus  far  offered  to  it  in 
almost  every  country  but  England  alone. 

These  men  had  many  assistants  and  lieu- 
tenants well  worthy  to  act  with  them  and 
under  them.  Mr.  W.  J.  Fox,  for  instance,  a 
Unitarian  minister  of  great  popularity  and 
remarkable  eloquence,  seemed  at  one  time 
almost  to  divide  public  admiration  as  an  ora- 
tor with  Mr.  Cobden  and  Mr.  Bright.  Mr. 
Milner  Gibson,  who  had  been  a Tory,  went 
over  to  the  movement,  and  gave  it  the  assist- 
ance of  trained  Parliamentary  knowledge  and 
very  considerable  debating  skill.  In  the 
Lancashire  towns  the  League  had  the  ad- 
vantage of  being  officered  for  the  most  part 
by  shrewd  and  sound  men  of  business  who 
gave  their  time  as  freely  as  they  gave  their 
money  to  the  advancement  of  the  cause.  It 
is  curious  to  compare  the  manner  in  which 
the  Anti-Corn-Law  agitation  was  conducted 
with  the  manner  in  which  the  contemporary 
agitation  in  Ireland  for  repeal  of  the  Union 
was  carried  on.  In  England  the  agitation 
was  based  on  the  most  strictly  business  prin- 
ciples. The  leaders  spoke  and  acted  as  if  the 
League  itself  were  some  great  commercial 
firm,  which  was  bound  above  all  things  to 
fulfil  its  promises  and  keep  to  the  letter  as 
well  as  the  spirit  of  its  engagements.  There 
was  no  boasting  ; there  was  no  exaggeration  ; 
there  were  no  appeals  to  passion  ; no  roman- 
tic rousings  of  sentimental  emotion.  The 
system  of  the  agitation  was  as  clear,  straight- 
forward and  business-like  as  its  purpose.  In 
Ireland  there  were  monster  meetings  with  all 
manner  of  dramatic  and  theatric  effects  ; with 
rhetorical  exaggeration  and  vehement  appeal 
to  passion  and  to  ancient  memory  of  suffer- 
ing. The  cause  was  kept  up  from  day  to 
day  by  assurances  of  near  success  so  pos- 
itive that  it  is  sometimes  hard  to  believe 
those  who  made  them  could  themselves  have 
been  deceived  by  them.  No  doubt  the  differ- 
ence will  be  described  by  many  as  the  mere 
result  of  the  difference  between  the  one  cause 
and  the  other ; between  the  agitation  for 
Free  Trade,  clear,  tangible,  and  practical, 
and  that  for  repeal  of  the  Union,  with  its 
shadowy  object  and  its  visionary  impulses. 
But  a better  explanation  of  the  difference 
will  be  found  in  the  different  natures  to 
which  an  appeal  had  to  be  made.  It  is  not 
by  any  means  certain  that  O’Connell’s  cause 
was  a mere  shadow  ; nor  will  it  appear,  if 
we  study  the  criticism  of  the  time,  that  the 
guides  of  public  opinion  who  pronounced  the 
repeal  agitation  absurd  and  ludicrous  had 
any  better  words  at  first  for  the  movement 
against  the  Corn  Laws.  Cobden  and  Bright 


on  the  one  side,  O’Connell  on  the  other, 
knew  the  audiences  they  had  to  address.  It 
would  have  been  impossible  to  stir  the  blood 
of  the  Lancashire  artisan  by  means  of  the  ap- 
peals which  went  to  the  very  heart  of  the 
dreamy,  sentimental,  impassioned  Celt  of  the 
South  of  Ireland.  The  Munster  peasant 
would  have  understood  little  of  such  clear 
penetrating  business-like  argument  as  that 
by  which  Cobden  and  Bright  enforced  their 
doctrines.  Had  O’Connell’s  cause  been  as 
practical  and  its  success  been  as  immediately 
attainable  as  that  of  the  Anti-Corn-Law 
League,  the  great  Irish  agitator  would  still 
have  had  to  address  his  followers  in  a different 
tone  of  appeal.  “All  men  are  not  alike,” 
says  the  Norman  butler  to  the  Flemish  sol- 
dier in  Scott’s  “ Betrothed  “that  which 
will  but  warm  your  Flemish  hearts  will  put 
wildfire  into  Norman  brains  ; and  what  may 
only  encourage  your  countrymen  to  man  the 
walls,  will  make  ours  fly  over  the  battle- 
ments.” The  most  impassioned  Celt,  how- 
ever, will  admit  that  in  the  Anti-Corn-Law 
movement  of  Cobden  and  Bright,  with  its 
rigid  truthfulness  and  its  strict  proportion 
between  capacity  and  promise,  there  was  an 
entirely  new  dignity  lent  to  popular  agitation 
which  raised  it  to  the  condition  of  states- 
manship in  the  rough.  The  Reform  agita- 
tion in  England  had  not  been  conducted 
without  some  exaggeration,  much  appeal  to 
passion,  and  some  not  by  any  means  indis- 
tinct allusion  to  the  reserve  of  popular  force 
which  might  be  called  into  action  if  legisla- 
tors and  peers  proved  insensible  to  argument. 
The  era  of  the  Anti-Corn-Law  movement 
was  a new  epoch  altogether  in  English  polit- 
ical controversy. 

The  League,  however,  successful  as  it 
might  be  throughout  the  country,  had  its 
great  work  to  do  in  Parliament.  The  Free 
Trade  leaders  must  have  found  their  hearts 
sink  within  them  when  they  came  sometimes 
to  confront  that  fortress  of  traditions  and  of 
vested  rights.  Even  after  the  change  made 
in  favor  of  manufacturing  and  middle  class 
interests  by  the  Reform  Bill,  the  House  of 
Commons  was  still  composed,  as  to  nine 
tenths  of  its  whole  number,  by  representa- 
tives of  the  landlords.  The  entire  House  of 
Lords  then  was  constituted  of  the  owners  of 
land.  All  tradition,  all  prestige,  all  the  dig- 
nity of  aristocratic  institutions,  seemed  to  be 
naturally  arrayed  against  the  new  movement, 
conducted  as  it  was  by  manufacturers  and 
traders  for  the  benefit  seemingly  of  trade  and 
those  whom  it  employed.  The  artisan  popu- 
lation, who  might  have  been  formidable  as  a 
disturbing  element,  were  on  the  whole  rather 
against  the  Free  Traders  than  for  them. 
Nearly  all  the  great  official  leaders  had  to  be 
converted  to  the  doctrines  of  Free  Trade. 
Many  of  the  Whigs  were  willing  enough  to 
admit  the  case  of  Free  Trade  as  the  young 
Scotch  lady  mentioned  by  Sydney  Smith  ad- 
mitted the  case  of  love,  “ in  the  abstract;” 
but  they  could  not  recognize  the  possibility 
of  applying  it  in  the  complicated  financial 
conditions  of  an  artificial  system  like  ours. 
Some  of  the  Whigs  were  in  favor  of  a fixed 
duty  in  place  of  the  existing  sliding  scale. 
The  leaders  of  the  movement  had  indeed  to 
resist  a very  dangerous  temptation  coming 
from  statesmen  who  professed  to  be  in  ac- 
cordance with  them  as  to  the  mere  principle 
of  protection,  but  who  were  always  endeav- 
oring to  persuade  them  that  they  had  better 
accept  any  decent  compromise  and  not  push 
their  demands  to  extremes.  The  witty  peer 
who  in  a former  generation  answered  an  ad- 
vocate of  moderate  reform  by  asking  him 
what  he  thought  of  moderate  chastity,  might 
have  had  many  opportunities,  if  he  had  been 
engaged  in  the  Free  Trade  movement,  of 
turning  his  epigram  to  account. 

Mr.  Macaulay,  for  instance,  wrote  to  the 
electors  of  Edinburgh  to  remonstrate  with 
them  on  what  he  considered  their  fanatical 
and  uncompromising  adherence  to  the  prin- 
ciple of  Free  Trade.  “ In  my  opinion,”  Mr. 


Macaulay  wrote  to  his  constituents,  “you 
are  all  wrong  — not  because  you  think  all 
protection  bad,  for  I think  so  too  ; not  even 
because  you  avow  your  opinion  and  attempt 
to  propagate  it ; for  I have  always  done  the 
same,  and  shall  do  the  same  ; but  because, 
being  in  a situation  where  your  only  hope  is 
in  a compromise,  you  refuse  to  hear  of  com- 
promise ; because,  being  in  a situation  where 
every  person  who  will  go  a step  with  you  on 
the  right  road  ought  to  be  cordially  wel- 
comed, you  drive  from  you  those  who  are 
willing  and  desirous  to  go  with  you  half 
way.  To  this  policy  I will  be  no  party.  1 
will  not  abandon  those  witn  whom  I have 
hitherto  acted,  and  without  whose  help  I am 
confident  that  no  great  improvement  can  be 
effected,  for  an  object  purely  selfish.”  It 
had  not  occurred  to  Mr.  Macaulay  that  any 
party  but  the  Whigs  could  bring  in  any 
measure  of  fiscal  or  other  reform  worth  the 
having  ; and  indeed  he  probably  thought  it 
would  be  something  like  an  act  of  ingrati- 
tude amounting  to  a species  of  sacrilege  to 
accept  reform  "from  any  hands  but  those  of 
its  recognized  Whig  patrons.  The  Anti- 
Corn-Law  agitation  introduced  a game  of 
politics  into  England  which  astonished  and 
considerably  discomfited  steady-going  poli- 
ticians like  Macaulay.  The  League  men  did 
not  profess  to  be  bound  by  any  indefeasible 
bond  of  allegiance  to  the  Whig  party.  They 
were  prepared  to  co-operate  with  any  party 
whatever  which  would  undertake  to  abolish 
the  Corn  Laws.  Their  agitation  would  have 
done  some  good  in  this  way,  if  in  no  other 
sense.  It  introduced  a more  robust  and. in- 
dependent spirit  into  political  life.  It  is  al- 
most ludicrous  sometimes  to  read  the  dia- 
tribes of  supporters  of  Lord  Melbourne’s 
Government,  for  example,  against  any  one 
who  should  presume  to  think  that  any  object 
in  the  mind  of  a true  patriot,  or  at  least  of  a 
true  Liberal,  could  equal  in  importance  that 
of  keeping  the  Melbourne  Ministry  in  power. 
Great  reforms  have  been  made  by  Conser- 
vative governments  in  our  own  days,  because 
the  new  political  temper  which  was  growing 
up  in  England  refused  to  affirm  that  the 
patent  of  reform  rested  in  the  possession  of 
any  particular  party,  and  that  if  the  holders 
of  the  monopoly  did  not  find  it  convenient, 
or  were  not  in  the  humor  to  use  it  any  fur- 
ther just  then,  no  one  else  must  venture  to 
interfere  in  the  matter,  or  to  undertake  the 
duty  which  they  had  declined  to  perform.  At 
the  time  that  Macaulay  wrote  his  letter,  how- 
ever, it  had  not  entered  into  the  mind  of  any 
W hig  to  believe  it  possible  that  the  repeal  of 
the  Corn  Laws  was  to  be  the  work  of  a great 
Conservative  minister,  done  at  the  bidding  of 
two  Radical  politicians. 

It  is  a significant  fact  that  the  Anti- Corn- 
Law  League  were  not  in  the  least  discouraged 
by  the  accession  of  Sir  Robert  Peel  to  power. 
To  them  the  fixed  duty  proposed  by  Lord 
John  Russell  was  as  objectionable  as  Peel’s 
sliding  scale.  Their  hopes  seem  rather  to 
have  gone  up  than  gone  down  when  the  min- 
ister came  into  power  whose  adherents,  un- 
like those  of  Lord  John  Russell,  were  abso- 
lutely against  the  very  principle  of  Free 
Trade.  It  is  of  some  importance,  in  estimat- 
ing the  morality  of  the  course  pursued  by 
Peel,  to  observe  the  opinion  formed  of  his 
professions  and  his  probable  purposes  by  the 
shrewd  men  who  led  the  Anti-Corn-Law 
League.  The  grand  charge  against  Peel  is 
that" he  betrayed  his  party  ; that  he  induced 
them  to  continue  their  allegiance  to  him  on 
the  promise  that  he  would  never  concede  the 
principle  of  Free  Trade  ; and  that  he  used 
his  power  to  establish  Free  Trade  when  the 
time  came  to  choose  between  it  and  a sur- 
render of  office.  Now  it  is  certain  that  the 
League  always  regarded  Sir  Robert  Peel  as  a 
Free  Trader  in  heart ; as  one  who  fully  ad- 
mitted the  principle  of  Free  Trade,  but  who 
did  not  see  his  way  just  then  to  deprive  the 
agricultural  interest  of  the  protection  on 
which  they  had  for  so  many  years  been  al- 


48 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


lowed  and  encouraged  to  lean.  In  the  debate 
after  the  general  election  of  1841,  the  debate 
which  turned  out  the  Melbourne  Ministry, 
Mr.  Cobden,  then  for  the  first  time  a member 
of  the  House  of  Commons,  said  : “ I am  a 
Free  Trader  ; I call  myself  neither  Whig  nor 
Tory.  I am  proud  to  acknowledge  the  vir- 
tue of  the  Whig  Ministry  in  coming  out  from 
the  ranks  of  the  monopolists  and  advancing 
three  parts  out  of  four  in  my  own  direction. 
Yet  if  the  right  honorable  baronet  opposite 
(Sir  R.  Peel)  advances  one  step  further,  I 
will  be  the  first  to  meet  him  half  way,  and 
shake  hands  with  him.  ’ ’ Some  years  later 
Mr.  Cobden  said  at  Birmingham,  “ There 
can  be  no  doubt  that  Sir  Robert  Peel  is  at 
heart  as  good  a Free  Trader  as  I am.  He 
has  told  us  so  in  the  House  of  Commons 
again  and  again  ; nor  do  I doubt  that  Sir 
Robert  Peel  has  in  his  inmost  heart  the  de- 
sire to  be  the  man  who  shall  carry  out  the 
principles  of  Free  Trade  in  this  country.” 
Sir  Robert  Peel  had  indeed,  as  Mr.  Cobden 
said,  again  and  again  in  Parliament  expressed 
his  conviction  as  to  the  general  truth  of  the 
principles  of  Free  Trade.  In  1842,  he  de- 
clared it  to  be  utterly  beyond  the  power  of 
Parliament,  and  a mere  delusion,  to  say  that 
by  any  duty,  fixed  or  otherwise,  a certain 
price  could  be  guaranteed  to  the  producer. 
In  the  same  year  he  expressed  his  belief  that 
“ on  the  general  principle  of  Free  Trade 
there  is  now  no  great  difference  of  opinion, 
and  that  all  agree  iu  the  general  rule  that  we 
should  buy  in  the  cheapest  and  sell  in  the 
dearest  market.”  This  expression  of  opinion 
called  forth  an  ironical  cheer  from  the 
benches  of  opposition.  Peel  knew  well 
what  the  cheer  was  meant  to  convey.  He 
knew  it  meant  to  ask  him  why  then  he  did 
not  allow  the  country  to  buy  its  grain  in  the 
cheapest  market.  He  promptly  added — “ I 
know  the  meaning  of  that  cheer.  I do  not 
wish  to  raise  a discussion  on  the  Corn  Laws 
or  the  Sugar  Duties,  which  I contend,  how- 
ever, are  exceptions  to  the  general  rule,  and 
I will  not  go  into  that  question  now.”  The 
press  of  the  day,  whether  for  or  against  Peel, 
commented  upon  his  declarations  and  his 
measures  as  indicating  clearly  that  the  bent 
of  his  mind  was  towards  free  trade  even  in 
grain.  At  all  events  he  had  reached  that 
mental  condition  when  he  regarded  the  case 
of  grain,  like  that  of  sugar,  as  a necessary 
exception  for  the  time  to  the  operation  of  a 
general  rule. 

It  ought  to  have  been  obvious  that  if  excep- 
tional circumstances  sliouldarise,  pullingmore 
strongly  in  the  direction  of  the  League,  Sir 
Robert  Peel’s  own  explicit  declarations  must 
bind  him  to  recognize  the  necessity  of  apply- 
ing the  Free  Trade  principles  even  to  corn. 
“ Sir  Robert  Peel,”  says  his  cousin  Sir  Lau- 
rence Peel,  in  a sketch  of  the  life  and  charac- 
ter of  the  great  statesman,  “ had  been,  as  I 
have  said,  always  a Free  Trader.  The  ques- 
tions to  which  he  had  declined  to  apply  those 
principles  had  been  viewed  by  him  as  excep- 
tional. The  Corn  Law  had  been  so  treated 
by  many  able  exponents  of  the  principles  of 
Free  Trade.”  Sir  Robert  Peel  himself  has 
left  it  on  record  that  during  the  discussions 
on  the  Corn  Law  of  1842  he  was  more  than 
once  pressed  to  give  a guarantee,  “ so  far  as 
a minister  could  give  it,”  that  the  amount  of 
protection  established  by  that  law  should  be 
permanently  adhered  to  ; “but  although  1 
did  not  then  contemplate  the  necessity  for 
further  change,  I uniformly  refused  to  fetter 
the  discretion  of  the  Government  by  any  such 
assurances  as  those  that  were  required  of  me.” 
It  is  evident  that  the  condition  of  Sir  Robert 
Peel’s  opinions  was  even  as  far  back  as  1842 
something  very  different  indeed  from  that  of 
the  ordinary  county  member  or  pledged  Pro- 
tectionist, and  that  Peel  had  done  all  he  could 
to  make  this  clear  to  his  party.  A minister 
who  in  1842  refused  to  fetter  the  discretion 
of  his  Government  in  dealing  with  the  pro- 
tection of  home-grown  grain  ought  not  on 
the  face  of  things  to  be  accused  of  violating 


his  pledges  and  betraying  his  party,  if,  four 
years  later,  under  the  pressure  of  extraordi- 
nary circumstances,  he  made  up  his  mind  to 
the  abolition  of  such  a protection.  Let  us 
test  this  in  a manner  that  will  be  familiar  to 
our  own  time.  Suppose  a Prime  Minister  is 
pressed  by  some  of  his  own  party  to  give  the 
House  of  Commons  a guarantee,  “ so  far  as  a 
minister  could  give  it,  ’ ’ that  the  principle  of 
the  State  Church  Establishment  in  England 
shall  be  permanently  adhered  to.  He  de- 
clines to  fetter  the  discretion  of  the  Govern- 
ment in  the  future.  Is  it  not  evident  that 
such  an  answer  would  be  taken  by  nine  out 
of  ten  of  his  listeners  to  be  ominous  of  some 
change  to  the  Established  Church  ? If  four 
years  after  the  same  minister  were  to  propose 
to  disestablish  the  Church,  he  might  be  de- 
nounced and  he  might  even  be  execrated,  but 
no  one  could  fairly  accuse  him  of  having 
violated  his  pledge  and  betrayed  his  party. 

The  country  party,  however,  did  not  un- 
derstand Sir  Robert  Peel  as  their  opponents 
and  his  assuredly  understood  him.  They 
did  not  at  this  time  believe  in  the  possbility 
of  any  change.  Free  Trade  was  to  them 
little  more  than  an  abstraction.  They  did 
not  much  care  who  preached  it  out  of  Parlia- 
ment. They  were  convinced  that  the  state 
of  things  they  saw  around  them  when  they 
were  boys  would  continue  to  the  end.  They 
looked  on  Mr.  Yilliersand  his  annual  motion 
in  favor  of  Free  Trade  very  much  as  a stout 
old  Tory  of  later  times  might  regard  the  an- 
nual motion  for  woman  suffrage.  Both  par- 
ties in  the  House — that  is  to  say,  both  of  the 
parties  from  whom  ministers  were  taken— 
alike  set  themselves  against  the  introduction 
of  any  such  measure.  The  supporters  of  it 
were,  with  one  exception,  not  men  of  family 
and  rank.  It  was  agitated  for  a good  deal 
out  of  doors,  but  agitation  had  not  up  to  that 
time  succeeded  in  making  much  way  even 
with  a reformed  Parliament.  The  country 
party  observed  that  some  men  among  the  two 
leading  sets  went  farther  in  favor  of  the  ab- 
stract principle  than  others  ; but  it  did  not 
seem  to  them  that  that  really  affected  the 
practical  question  very  much.  In  1842  Mr. 
Disraeli  himself  was  one  of  those  who  stood 
up  for  the  Free  Trade  principle,  and  insisted 
that  it  had  been  rather  the  inherited  principle 
of  the  Conservatives  than  of  the  Whigs. 
Country  gentlemen  did  not  therefore  greatly 
concern  themselves  about  the  practical  work 
doing  in  Manchester,  or  the  professions  of 
abstract  opinion  so  often  made’in  Parliament. 
They  did  not  see  that  the  mind  of  their  lead- 
er was  avowedly  in  a progressive  condition 
on  the  subject  of  Free  Trade.  Because  they 
could  not  bring  themselves  to  question  for  a 
moment  the  principle  of  protection  for  home- 
grown grain,  they  made  up  their  minds  that 
it  was  a principle  as  sacred  with  him. 
Against  that  conviction  no  evidence  could 
prevail.  It  was  with  them  a point  of  con- 
science and  honor  ; it  would  have  seemed  an 
insult  to  their  leader  to  believe  even  his  own 
words  if  these  seemed  to  say  that  it  was  a 
mere  question  of  expediency,  convenience, 
and  time  with  him. 

Perhaps  it  would  have  been  better  if  Sir 
Robert  Peel  had  devoted  himself  more  di- 
rectly to  what  Mr.  Disraeli  afterwards  called 
educating  his  party.  Perhaps  if  he  had 
made  it  part  of  his  duty  as  a leader  to  prepare 
the  minds  of  his  followers  for  the  fact  that 
protection  for  grain  having  ceased  to  be  ten- 
able as  an  economic  principle  would  possibly 
some  day  have  to  be  given  up  as  a prac- 
tice, he  might  have  taken  his  party  along 
with  him.  He  might  have  been  able  to  show 
them,  as  the  events  have  shown  them  since, 
that  the  introduction  of  free  corn  would  be  a 
blessing  to  the  population  of  England  in  gen- 
eral, and  would  do  nothing  but  good  for  the 
landed  interest  as  well.  The  influence  of 
Peel  at  that  time,  and  indeed  all  through  his 
administration  up  to  the  introduction  of  his 
Free  Trade  measures,  was  limitless,  so  far  as 
his  party  were  concerned.  He  could  have 


done  anything  with  them.  Indeed  we  find 
no  evidence  so  clear  to  prove  that  Peel  had 
not  in  1842  made  up  his  mind  to  the  intro- 
duction of  Free  Trade  as  the  fact  that  he  did 
not  at  once  begin  to  educate  his  party  to  it. 
This  is  to  be  regretted.  The  measure  might 
have  been  passed  by  common  accord.  There 
is  something  not  altogether  without  pathetic 
influence  in  the  thought  of  that  country  party 
whom  Peel  had  led  so  long,  and  who  adored 
him  so  thoroughly,  turning  away  from  him 
and  against  him,  and  mournfully  seeking 
another  leader.  There  is  something  pathetic 
in  the  thought  that  rightly  or  wrongly  they 
should  have  believed  themselves  betrayed  by 
their  chief.  But  Peel,  to  begin  with,  was  a 
reserved,  cold,  somewhat  awkward  man. 
He  was  not  effusive  ; he  did  not  pour  out  his 
emotions  and  reveal  all  his  changes  of  opin- 
ion in  bursts  of  confidence  even  to  his  ha- 
bitual associates.  He  brooded  over  these 
things  in  his  own  mind  ; he  gave  such  ex- 
pression to  them  in  open  debate  as  any  pass- 
ing occasion  seemed  strictly  to  call  for  ; and 
he  assumed  perhaps  that  the  gradual  changes 
operating  in  his  views  when  thus  expressed 
were  understood  by  his  followers.  Above 
all,  it  is  probable  that  Peel  himself  did  not 
see  until  almost  the  last  moment  that  the 
time  had  actually  come  when  the  principle 
of  protection  must  give  way  to  other  and 
more  weighty  claims.  In  his  speech  an- 
nouncing his  intended  legislation  in  1846,  Sir 
Robert  Peel,  with  a proud  frankness  which 
was  characteristic  of  him,  denied  that  his 
altered  course  of  action  was  due  exclusively 
to  the  failure  of  the  potato  crop  and  the 
dread  of  famine  in  Ireland.  “ I will  not,  ’ ’ he 
said,  “withhold  the  homage  which  is  due 
to  the  progress  of  reason  and  of  truth  by 
denying  that  my  opinions  on  the  subject  of 
Protection  have  undergone  a change.  ...  I 
will  not  direct  the  course  of  the  vessel  by 
observations  taken  in  1842.”  But  it  is  prob- 
able that  if  the  Irish  famine  had  not  threaten- 
ed, the  moment  for  introducing  the  new  leg- 
islation might  have  been  indefinitely  post- 
poned. The  prospects  of  the  Anti-Corn-Law 
League  did  not  look  by  any  means  bright  when 
the  session  preceding  the  introduction  of  the 
Free  Trade  legislation  came  to  an  end.  The 
number  of  votes  that  the  League  could  count 
on  in  Parliament  did  not  much  exceed  that 
which  the  advocates  of  Home  Rule  have  been 
able  to  reckon  up  in  our  day.  Nothing  in 
1843  or  in  the  earlier  part  of  1845  pointed  to 
any  immediate  necessity-for  Sir  Robert  Peel’s 
testing  the  progress  of  his  own  convictions 
by  reducing  them  into  the  shape  of  practical 
action.  It  is  therefore  not  hard  to  under- 
stand how  even  a far-seeing  and  conscien- 
tious statesman  busy  with  the  practical  work 
of  each  day  might  have  put  off  taking  defi- 
nite counsel  with  himself  as  to  the  introduc- 
tion of  measures  for  which  just  then  there 
seemed  no  special  necessity,  and  which  could 
hardly  be  introduced  without  bitter  contro- 
versy. 

CHAPTER  XV. 

FAMINE  FORCES  PEEL’S  HAND. 

We  see  how  the  two  great  parties  of  the 
State  stood  with  regard  to  this  question  of 
Free  Trade.  The  Whigs  were  steadily  grav- 
itating towards  it.  Their  leaders  did  not 
quite  see  their  way  to  accept  it  as  a principle 
of  practical  statesmanship,  but  it  was  evident 
that  their  acceptance  of  it  was  only  a ques- 
tion of  time,  and  of  no  long  time.  The  leader 
of  the  Tory  party  was  being  drawn  day  by 
day  more  in  the  same  direction.  Both  lead- 
ers, Russell  and  Peel,  had  gone  so  far  as  to 
admit  the  general  principle  of  Free  Trade. 
Peel  had  contended  that  grain  was  in  Eng- 
land a necessary  exception  ; Russell  was  not 
of  opinion  that  the  time  had  come  when  it 
could  be  treated  otherwise  than  as  an  excep- 
tion. The  Free  Trade  party,  small,  indeed, 
in  its  Parliamentary  force,  but  daily  growing 
more  and  more  powerful  with  the  country, 
would  take  nothing  from  either  leader  but 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


49 


Free  Trade  sans  phrase  ; and  would  take  that 
from  either  leader  without  regard  to  partisan 
considerations.  It  is  evident  to  any  one  who 
knows  anything  of  the  working  of  our  sj  s- 
tem  of  government  by  party,  that  this  must 
soon  have  ended  in  one  or  other  of  the  two 
great  ruling  parties  forming  an  alliance  with 
the  Free  Traders.  If  unforeseen  events  had 
not  interposed,  it  is  probable  that  conviction 
would  first  have  fastened  on  the  minds  of  the 
Whigs,  and  that  they  would  have  had  the 
honor  of  abolishing  the  Com  Laws.  They 
were  out  of  office  and  did  not  seem  likely  to 
get  back  soon  to  it  by  their  own  power,  and 
the  Free  Trade  party  would  have  come  in 
time  to  be  a very  desirable  ally.  It  would 
be  idle  to  pretend  to  doubt  that  the  convic- 
tions of  political  parties  are  hastened  on  a 
good  deal  under  our  system  by  the  yearning 
of  those  who  are  out  of  office  to  get  the  better 
of  those  who  are  in.  Statesmen  in  England 
are  converted  as  Henry  of  Navarre  became 
Catholic  : we  do  not  say  that  they  actually 
change  their  opinions  for  the  sake  of  making 
themselves  eligible  for  power,  but  a change 
which  has  been  growing  up  imperceptibly, 
and  which  might  otherwise  have  taken  a long 
time  to  declare  itself,  is  stimulated  thus  to 
confess  itself  and  come  out  into  the  light. 
But  in  the  case  of  the  Anti-Corn-Law  agita- 
tion, an  event  over  which  political  parties  had 
no  control  intervened  to  spur  the  intent  of  the 
Prime  Minister.  Mr.  Bright,  many  years 
after,  when  pronouncing  the  eulogy  of  his 
dead  friend  Cobden,  described  what  happen- 
ed in  a fine  sentence  : “ Famine  itself,  against 
which  we  had  warred,  joined  us.”  In  the 
autumn  of  1845  the  potato  rot  began  in  Ire- 
land. 

The  vast  majority  of  the  working  popula- 
tion of  Ireland  were  known  to  depend  abso- 
lutely on  the  potato  for  subsistence.  In  the 
northern  province,  where  the  population 
were  of  Scotch  extraction,  the  oatmeal,  the 
brose  of  their  ancestors,  still  supplied  the 
staple  of  their  food  ; but  in  the  southern  and 
western  provinces  a large  proportion  of  the 
peasantry  actually  lived  on  the  potato  and 
the  potato  alone.  In  these  districts  whole 
generations  grew  up,  lived,  married,  and 
passed  away,  without  having  ever  tasted  flesh 
meat.  It  was  evident  then  that  a failure  in 
the  potato  crop  would  be  equivalent  to  fam- 
ine. Many  of  the  laboring  class  received  little 
or  no  money  wages.  They  lived  on  what  was 
called  the  ‘‘cottier  tenant  system;”  that  is 
to  say,  a man  worked  for  a landowner  on 
condition  of  getting  the  use  of  a little  scrap 
of  land  for  himself,  on  which  to  grow  pota- 
toes to  be  the  sole  food  of  himself  and  his 
family.  The  news  came  in  the  autumn  of 
1845  that  the  long  continuance  of  sunless 
wet  and  cold  had  imperilled,  if  not  already 
destroyed,  the  food  of  a people. 

The  Cabinet  of  Sir  Robert  Peel  held  hasty 
meetings  closely  following  each  other.  Peo- 
ple began  to  ask  whether  Parliament  was 
about  to  be  called  together,  and  whether  the 
Government  had  resolved  on  a bold  policy. 
The  Anti-Corn-Law  League  were  clamoring 
for  the  opening  of  the  ports.  The  Prime 
Minister  himself  was  strongly  in  favor  of 
such  a course.  He  urged  upon  his  colleagues 
that  all  restrictions  upon  the  importation  of 
foreign  corn  should  be  suspended  either  by 
an  Order  in  Council,  or  by  calling  Parliament 
together  and  recommending  such  a measure 
from  the  throne.  It  is  now  known  that  in  offer- 
ing this  advice  to  his  colleagues  Peel  accom- 
panied it  with  the  expression  of  a doubt  as  to 
whether  it  would  ever  be  possible  to  restore 
the  restrictions  that  had  once  been  suspend- 
ed. Indeed  this  doubt  must  have  filled  every 
mind.  The  League  were  openly  declaring 
that  one  reason  why  they  called  for  the  open- 
ing of  the  ports  was  that  once  opened  they 
never  could  be  closed  again. . The  doubt  was 
enough  for  some  of  the  colleagues  of  Sir 
Robert  Peel.  It  seems  marvellous  now  how 
responsible  statesmen  could  struggle  for  the 
retention  of  restrictions  which  were  so  un- 


popular and  indefensible  that  if  they  were 
once  suspended  under  the  pressure  of  no 
matter  what  exceptional  necessity,  they  never 
could  be  reimposed.  The  Duke'of  Welling- 
ton and  Lord  Stanley,  however,  opposed  the 
idea  of  opening  the  ports,  and  the  proposal 
fell  through.  The  Cabinet  merely  resolved 
on  appointing  a commission,  consisting  of 
heads  of  departments  in  Ireland,  to  take 
some  steps  to  guard  against  a sudden  out- 
break of  famine,  and  the  thought  of  an  au- 
tumnal session  was  abandoned.  Sir  Robert 
Peel  himself  has  thus  tersely  described  the 
manner  in  which  his  proposals  were  receiv- 
ed : “ The  Cabinet  by  a very  considerable 
majority  declined  giving  its  assent  to  the 
proposals  which  I thus  made  to  them.  They 
were  supported  by  only  three  members  of  the 
Cabinet,  the  Earl  of  Aberdeen,  Sir  James 
Graham,  and  Mr.  Sidney  Herbert.  The  other 
members  of  the  Cabinet,  some  on  the  ground 
of  objection  to  the  principle  of  the  measures 
recommended,  others  upon  the  ground  that 
there  was  not  yet  sufficient  evidence  of  the 
necessity  for  them,  withheld  their  sanction.  ’ ’ 

The  great  cry  all  through  Ireland  was  for 
the  opening  of  the  ports.  The  Mansion 
House  Relief  Committee  of  Dublin  issued  a 
series  of  resolutions  declaring  their  conviction 
from  the  most  undeniable  evidence  that  con- 
siderably more  than  one  third  of  the  entire 
potato  crop  in  Ireland  had  been  already  de- 
stroyed by  the  disease,  and  that  the  disease 
had  not  ceased  its  ravages,  but  on  the  con- 
trary was  daily  expanding  more  and  more. 
“ No  reasonable  conjecture  can  be  formed,” 
the  resolutions  went  on  to  state,  “ with  re- 
spect to  the  limit  of  its  effects  short  of  the 
destruction  of  the  entire  remaining  crop 
and  the  document  concluded  with  a denun- 
ciation of  the  Ministry  for  not  opening  the 
ports  or  calling  Parliament  together  before 
the  usual  time  for  its  assembling. 

Two  or  three  days  after  the  issue  of  these 
resolutions  Lord  John  Russell  wrote  a letter 
from  Edinburgh  to  his  constituents,  the  elec- 
tors of  the  City  of  London — a letter  which  is 
one  of  the  historical  documents  of  the  reign. 
It  announced  his  unqualified  conversion  to 
the  principles  of  the  Auti-Corn-Law  League. 
The  failure  of  the  potato  crop  was  ot  course 
the  immediate  occasion  of  this  letter.  “ In- 
decision and  procrastination,”  Lord  John 
Russell  wrote,  “ may  produce  a state  of  suf- 
fering which  it  is  frightful  to  contemplate. 

. . . It  is  no  longer  worth  while  to  contend 
for  a fixed  duty.  In  1841  the  Free  Trade 
party  would  have  agreed  to  a duty  of  8*.  per 
quarter  on  wheat,  and  after  a lapse  of  years 
this  duty  might  have  been  further  reduced, 
and  ultimately  abolished.  But  the  imposi- 
tion of  any  duty  at  present,  without  a pro- 
vision for  its  extinction  within  a short  period, 
would  but  prolong  a contest  already  suffi- 
ciently fruitful  of  animosity  and  discontent.” 
Lord  John  Russell  then  invited  a general 
understanding,  to  put  an  end  to  a system 
‘ ‘ which  has  been  proved  to  be  the  blight  of 
commerce,  the  bane  of  agriculture,  the  source 
of  bitter  division  among  classes,  the  cause  of 
penury,  fever,  mortality  and  crime  among 
the  people.”  Then  the  writer  added  a signi- 
ficant remark  to  the  effect  that  the  Govern- 
ment appeared  to  be  waiting  for  some  excuse 
to  give  up  the  present  Corn  Laws,  and  urg- 
ing the  people  to  afford  them  all  the  excuse 
they  could  desire.  “ by  petition,  by  address, 
by  remonstrance.” 

Peel  himself  has  told  us  in  his  memoirs 
what  was  the  effect  which  this  letter  produc- 
ed upon  his  own  councils,  It  “ could  not,” 
he  points  out,  “ fail  to  exercise  a very  ma- 
terial influence  on  the  public  mind,  and  on 
the  subject  matter  of  our  deliberations  in  the 
Cabinet.  It  justified  the  conclusion  that  the 
Whig  party  was  prepared  to  unite  with  the 
Anti-Corn-Law  League  in  demanding  the 
total  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws.”  Peel  would 
not  consent  now  to  propose  simply  an  open- 
ing of  the  ports.  It  would  seem,  he  thought, 
a mere  submission,  to  accept  the  minimum  of 

4 


the  terms  ordered  by  the  Whig  leader.  That 
would  have  been  well  enough  when  he  first 
recommended  it  to  his  Cabinet  ; and  if  it 
could  then  have  been  offered  to  the  country 
as  the  spontaneous  movement  of  a united 
Ministry,  it  would  have  been  becoming  of  the 
emergency  and  of  the  men.  But  to  do  this 
now  would  be  futile  ; would  seem  like  tri- 
fling with  the  question.  Sir  Robert  Peel 
therefore  recommended  to  his  Cabinet  an 
early  meeting  of  Parliament  with  the  view  of 
bringing  forward  some  measure  equivalent  to 
a speedy  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws. 

The  recommendation  was  wise.  It  was, 
indeed,  indispensable.  Yret  it  is  hard  to  think 
that  an  impartial  posterity  will  form  a very 
lofty  estimate  of  the  wisdom  with  which  the 
counsels  of  the  two  great  English  parties 
were  guided  in  this  momentous  emergency. 
Neither  Whigs  nor  Tories  appear  to  have 
formed  a judgment  because  of  facts  or  prin- 
ciples, but  only  in  deference  to  the  political 
necessities  of  the  hour.  Sir  Robert  Peel 
himself  denied  that  it  was  the  resistless  hand 
of  famine  in  Ireland  which  had  brought  him 
to  his  resolve  that  the  Corn  Laws  ought  to  be 
abolished.  He  grew  into  the  conviction  that 
they  were  bad  in  principle.  Lord  John  Rus- 
sell had  long  been  growing  into  the  same  con- 
viction. Yet  the  League  had  been  left  to 
divide  with  but  small  numbers  against  over- 
whelming majorities  made  up  of  both  parties, 
until  the  very  session  before  Peel  proposed 
to  repeal  the  Corn  Laws.  Lord  Beacons- 
field,  indeed,  indulges  in  something  like  ex- 
aggeration when  lie  says,  in  his  “ Life  of 
Lord  George  Bentinck,”  that  the  close  of  the 
session  of  1845  found  the  League  nearly  re- 
duced to  silence.  But  it  is  not  untrue 
that,  as  he  says,  “ the  Manchester  confed- 
erates seemed  to  be  least  in  favor  with 
Parliament  and  the  country  on  the  very 
eve  of  their  triumph.”  “They  lost  at 
the  same  time  elections  and  the  ear  of 
the  House ; and  the  cause  of  total  and 
immediate  repeal  seemed  in  a not  less 
hopeless  position  than  when,  under  cir- 
cumstances of  infinite  difficulty,  it  was  first 
and  solely  upheld  by  the  terse  eloquence  and 
vivid  perception  of  Charles  Villiers.”  Lord 
Beaconsfield  certainly  ought  to  know  what 
cause  had  and  what  had  not  the  ear  of  the 
House  of  Commons  at  that  time  ; and  yet  we 
venture  to  doubt,  even  after  his  assurance, 
whether  the  League  and  its  speakers  had  in 
any  way  found  their  hold  on  the  attention  of 
Parliament  diminishing.  But  the  loss  of 
elections  is  beyond  dispute.  It  is  a fact  al- 
luded to  in  the  very  letter  from  Lord  John 
Russell  which  was  creating  so  much  com- 
motion. “It  is  not  to  be  denied,”  Lord 
John  Russell  writes,  “ that  many  elections 
for  cities  and  towns  in  1841,  and  some  in 
1845,  appear  to  favor  the  assertion  that  Free 
Trade  is  not  popular  with  the  great  mass  of 
the  community.”  This  is,  from  whatever 
cause,  a very  common  phenomenon  in  our 
political  history.  A movement  which  began 
with  the  promise  of  sweeping  all  before  it 
seems  after  awhile  to  lose  its  force,  and  is 
supposed  by  many  observers  to  be  now  only 
the  work  and  the  care  of  a few  earnest  and 
fanatical  men.  Suddenly  it  is  taken  up  by  a 
minister  of  commanding  influence,  and  the 
bore  of  the  crotchet  of  one  Parliament  is  the 
great  party  controversy  of  a second,  and  the 
accomplished  triumph  of  a third.  In  this 
instance  it  is  beyond  dispute  that  the  League 
seemed  to  be  somewhat  losing  in  strength 
and  influence  just  on  the  eve  of  its  complete 
triumph.  He  must,  indeed,  be  the  very  op- 
timist of  Parliamentary  government  who  up- 
holds the  manner  of  Free  Trade’s  final  adop- 
tion as  absolutely  satisfactory,  and  as  reflect- 
ing nothing  but  credit  upon  the  counsels  of 
our  two  great  political  parties.  Such  a well- 
contented  personage  might  be  fairly  asked  to 
explain  why  a system  of  protective  taxation, 
beginning  to  be  regarded  by  all  thoughtful 
statesmen  as  bad  in  itself,  should  never  be 
examined  with  a view  to  its  repeal  until  the 


50 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


force  of  a great  emergency  and  the  rival  bid- 
dings of  party  leaders  came  to  render  its  re- 
peal inevitable.  The  Corn  Laws,  as  all  the 
world  now  admits,  were  a cruel  burden  to 
the  poor  and  the  working  class  of  England. 
They  were  justly  described  by  Lord  John 
Russell  as  “ the  blight  of  commerce,  the  bane 
of  agriculture,  the  source  of  bitter  division 
among  classes  ; the  cause  of  penury,  fever, 
mortality  and  crime  among  the  people.  ” All 
this  was  independent  of  the  sudden  and  ephe- 
meral calamity  of  the  potato  rot,  which  at  the 
time  when  Lord  John  Russell  wrote  that  let- 
ter did  not  threaten  to  become  nearly  so  fatal 
as  it  afterwards  proved  to  be.  One  cannot 
help  asking  how  long  would  the  Corn  Laws 
be  suffered  thus  to  blight  commerce  and 
agriculture,  to  cause  division  among  classes, 
and  to  produce  penury,  mortality  and  crime 
among  the  people,  if  the  potato  rot  in  Ire- 
land had  not  rendered  it  necessary  to  do 
something  without  delay  ? 

The  potato  rot,  however,  inspired  the  writ- 
ing of  Lord  John  Russell’s  letter  ; and  Lord 
John  Russell’s  letter  inspired  Sir  Robert  Peel 
with  the  conviction  that  something  must  be 
done.  Most  of  his  colleagues  were  inclined 
to  go  with  him  this  time.  A Cabinet  Coun- 
cil was  held  on  November  25,  almost  imme- 
diately after  the  publication  of  Lord  John 
Russell’s  letter.  At  that  council  Sir  Robert 
Peel  recommended  the  summoning  of  Par- 
liament with  a view  to  instant  measures  to 
combat  the  famine  in  Ireland,  but  with  a 
view  also  to  some  announcement  of  legisla- 
tion intended  to  pave  the  way  for  the  repeal 
of  the  Corn  Laws.  Lord  Stanley  still  hesi- 
tated, and  asked  time  to  consider  his  decis- 
ion. The  Duke  of  Wellington  was  unchang- 
ed in  his  private  opinion  that  the  Corn  Laws 
ought  to  be  maintained  ; but  he  declared 
with  a blunt  simplicity  that  his  only  object 
in  public  life  was  “ to  support  Sir  Robert 
Peel’s  administration  of  the  Government  for 
the  Queen.”  “ A good  government  for  the 
country,”  said  the  sturdy  and  simple  old 
li  ro,  “ is  more  important  than  Corn  Laws  or 
any  other  consideration.  ” One  may  smile  at 
this  notion  of  a good  government  without  ref- 
erence to  the  quality  of  the  legislation  it  in- 
troduces ; it  reminds  one  a little  of  the  cele- 
brated study  of  history  without  reference  to 
time  or  place.  But  the  Duke  acted  strictly 
up  to  his  principles  of  duty,  and  he  declared 
that  if  Sir  Robert  Peel  considered  the  repeal 
of  the  Corn  Laws  to  be  not  right  or  neces- 
sary for  the  welfare  of  England,  but  requisite 
for  the  maintenance  of  Sir  Robert  Peel’s  po- 
sition “ in  Parliament  and  in  the  public 
view,”  he  should  thoroughly  support  the  pro- 
posal. Lord  Stanley,  however,  was  not  to 
be  changed  in  the  end.  He  took  time  to 
consider,  and  seems  really  to  have  tried  his 
best  to  persuade  himself  that  he  could  fall  iu 
with  the  new  position  which  the  Premier 
had  assumed.  Meanwhile  the  most  excited 
condition  of  public  feeling  prevailed  through- 
out London  and  the  country  generally.  The 
Times  newspaper  came  out  on  December  4 
with  the  announcement  that  the  Ministry  had 
made  up  its  mind,  and  that  the  Royal  speech 
at  the  commencement  of  the  session  would 
recommend  an  immediate  consideration  of 
the  Corn  Laws  preparatory  to  their  total  re- 
peal. It  would  be  hardly  possible  to  exag- 
gerate the  excitement  caused  by  this  startling 
piece  of  news.  It  was  indignantly  and  in 
unqualified  terms  declared  a falsehood  by  the 
ministerial  prints.  Long  arguments  were 
gone  into  to  prove  that  even  if  the  fact  an- 
nounced were  true,  it  could  not  possibly  have 
been  known  to  the  Times.  In  Disraeli’s 
“ C’oningsby”  Mr.  Rigby  gives  the  clearest 
and  most  convincing  reasons  to  prove  first 
that  Lord  Spencer  could  not  be  dead,  as  re- 
port said  he  was  ; and  next,  that  even  if  he 
were  dead,  the  fact  could  not  possibly  be 
known  to  those  who  took  on  themselves  to 
announce  it.  He  is  hardly  silenced  even  by 
the  assurance  of  a great  duke  that  he  is  one 
of  Lord  Spencer’s  executors,  and  that  Lord 


Spencer  is  certainly  dead.  So  the  announce- 
ment in  the  Times  was  fiercely  and  pedantic- 
ally argued  against.  “ It  can’t  be  true 
“the  Times  could  not  get  to  know  of  it;” 
“ it  must  be  a Cabinet  secret  if  it  were  true 
“ nobody  outside  the  Cabinet  could  possibly 
know  of  it ‘‘if  any  one  outside  the  Cab- 
inet could  get  to  know  of  it,  it  would  not  be 
the  Times;”  it  would  be  this,  that,  or  the 
other  person  or  journal ; and  so  forth.  Long 
after  it  had  been  made  certain  beyond  even 
Mr.  Rigby’s  power  of  disputation  that  the 
announcement  was  true  so  far  as  the  resolve 
of  the  Prime  Minister  was  concerned,  people 
continued  to  argue  and  controvert  as  to  the 
manner  in  which  the  Times  became  possessed 
of  the  secret.  The  general  conclusion  come 
to  among  the  knowing  was  that  the  blandish- 
ments of  a gifted  and  beautiful  lady  with  a 
dash  of  political  intrigue  in  her  had  somehow 
extorted  the  secret  from  a young  and  hand- 
some member  of  the  Cabinet,  and  that  she 
had  communicated  it  to  the  Times.  It  is  not 
impossible  that  this  may  have  been  the  true 
explanation.  It  was  believed  in  by  a great 
many  persons  who  might  have  been  in  a po- 
sition to  judge  of  the  probabilities.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  were  surely  signs  and  to- 
kens enough  by  which  a shrewd  politician 
might  have  guessed  what  was  to  come  with- 
out any  intervention  of  petticoat  diplomacy. 
It  seems  odd  now  that  people  should  then 
have  distressed  themselves  so  much  by  con- 
jectures as  to  the  source  of  the  information 
when  once  it  was  made  certain  that  the  in- 
formation itself  was  substantially  true.  This 
it  undoubtedly  was,  although  it  did  not  tell 
all  the  truth,  and  could  not  foretell.  For 
there  was  an  ordeal  yet  to  be  gone  through 
before  the  Prime  Minister  could  put  his  plans 
into  operation.  On  December  4 the  Times 
made  the  announcement.  On  tlieCth,  having 
been  passionately  contradicted,  it  repeated  the 
assertion.  “We  adhere  to  our  original  an- 
nouncement that  Parliament  will  meet  early 
in  January,  and  that  a repeal  of  the  Corn 
Laws  will  be  proposed  in  one  House  by  Sir 
R.  Peel,  and  in  the  other  by  the  Duke  of 
Wellington.”  But  in  the  meantime  the  op- 
position in  the  Cabinet  had  proved  itself  un- 
manageable. Lord  Stanley  and  the  Duke  of 
Buccleuch  intimated  to  the  Prime  Minister 
that  they  could  not  be  parties  to  any  measure 
involving  the  ultimate  repeal  of  the  Corn 
Laws.  Sir  Robert  Peel  did  not  believe  that 
he  could  carry  out  his  project  satisfactorily  un- 
der such  circumstances,  and  he  therefore  has- 
tened to  tender  his  resignation  to  the  Queen. 
“ The  other  members  of  the  Cabinet,  without 
exception,  I believe” — these  are  Sir  Robert 
Peel’s  own  words — ‘ ‘ concurred  in  this  opin- 
ion ; and  under  these  circumstances,  I con- 
sidered it  to  be  my  duty  to  tender  my  resig- 
nation to  her  Majesty.  On  the  5th  of  De- 
cember I repaired  to  Osborne,  Isle  of  Wihgt, 
and  humbly  solicited  her  Majesty  to  relieve 
me  from  duties  which  I felt  I could  no  lon- 
ger discharge  with  advantage  to  her  Majes- 
ty’s service.”  The  very  day  after  the  Times 
made  its  famous  announcement,  the  very  day 
before  the  Times  repeated  it,  the  Prime  Min- 
ister who  was  to  propose  the  repeal  of  the 
Corn  Laws  went  out  of  office. 

Querr i dixere  chaos  ! Apparently  chaos  had 
come  again.  Lord  John  Russell  was  sent  for 
from  Edinburgh.  His  letter  had  without 
any  such  purpose  on  his  part  written  him  up 
as  the  man  to  take  Sir  Robert  Peel’s  place. 
Lord  John  Russell  came  to  London  and  did 
his  best  to  cope  with  the  many  difficulties  of 
the  situation.  His  party  were  not  very 
strong  in  the  country,  and  they  had  not  a 
majority  in  the  House  of  Commons.  He 
very  naturally  endeavored  to  obtain  from 
Peel  a pledge  that  he  would  support  the 
immediate  and  complete  repeal  of  the 
Corn  Laws.  Peel,  writing  to  the  Queen, 
“ humbly  expresses  his  regret  that  he  does 
not  feel  it  to  be  consistent  with  his  duty  to 
enter  upon  the  consideration  of  this  im- 
portant question  in  Parliament  fettered 


by  a previous  engagement  of  the  nature 
of  I hat  required  of  him.”  The  position 
of  Lord  John  Rus§ell  was  awkward.  He 
had  been  forced  into  it  because  one  or  two  of 
Sir  Robert  Peel’s  colleagues  would  not  con- 
sent to  adopt  the  policy  of  their  chief.  But 
the  very  fact  of  so  stubborn  an  opposition 
from  a man  of  Lord  Stanley’s  influence 
showed  clearly  enough  that  the  passing  of 
Free  Trade  measures  was  not  to  be  effected 
without  stern  resistance  from  the  country 
party.  The  whole  risk  and  burden  had 
seemingly  been  thrown  on  Lord  John  Rus- 
sell ; and  now  Sir  Robert  Peel  would  not 
even  pledge  himself  to  unconditional  support 
of  the  very  policy  which  was  understood  to 
be  his  own.  Lord  John  Russell  showed, 
even  then,  his  characteristic  courage.  He 
resolved  to  form  a Ministry  without  a Parlia- 
mentary majority.  He  was  not  however 
fated  to  try  the  ordeal.  Lord  Grey,  who 
was  a few  months  before  Lord  Howick,  and 
who  had  just  succeeded  to  the  title  of  his  fa- 
ther (the  stately  Charles  Earl  Grey,  the  pupil 
of  Fox,  and  chief  of  the  Cabinet  which  pass- 
ed the  Reform  Bill  and  abolished  slavery) — 
Lord  Grey  felt  a strong  objection  to  the  for- 
eign policy  of  Lord  Palmerston,  and  these 
two  could  not  get  on  in  one  Ministry  as  it 
was  part  of  Lord  John  Russell’s  plan  that 
they  should  do.  Lord  Grey  also  was  strong- 
ly of  opinion  that  a seat  in  the  Cabinet  ought 
to  be  offered  to  Mr.  Cobden  ; but  other  great 
Whigs  could  not  bring  themselves  to  any  lar- 
ger sacrifice  to  justice  and  common  sense 
than  a suggestion  that  the  office  of  Vice-Pres- 
ident of  the  Board  of  Trade  should  be  ten- 
dered to  the  leader  of  the  Free  Trade  move- 
ment. Mr.  Macaulay  describes  the  events  in 
a letter  to  the  Edinburgh  Chamber  of  Com- 
merce. “All  our  plans  were  frustrated  by 
Lord  Grey,  who  objected  to  Lord  Palmer- 
ston being  Foreign  Secretary.  I hope  that 
the  public  interests  will  not  suffer.  Sir  Rob- 
ert Peel  must  now  undertake  the  settlement 
of  the  question.  It  is  certain  that  he  can  set- 
tle it.  It  is  by  no  means  certain  that  we 
could  have  done  so.  For  we  shall  to  a man 
support  him  ; and  a large  proportion  of  those 
who  are  now  in  office  would  have  refused  to 
support  us.”  One  passage  in  Macaulay’s 
letter  will  be  read  with  peculiar  interest. 
“From  the  first,”  he  says,  “I  told  Lord 
John  Russell  that  I stipulated  for  one  thing 
only — total  and  immediate  repeal  of  the  Corn 
Laws  ; that  my  objections  to  gradual  abo- 
lition were  insurmountable  ; but  that  if  he 
declared  for  total  and  immediate  repeal  I 
would  be  as  to  all  other  matters  absolutely  in 
his  hands  ; that  I would  take  any  office,  or 
no  office,  just  as  suited  him  best ; and  that 
he  should  never  be  disturbed  by  any  personal 
pretensions  or  jealousies  on  my  part.”  No 
one  can  doubt  Macaulay’s  sincerity  and 
singleness  of  purpose.  But  it  is  surprising 
to  note  the  change  that  the  agitation  of  little 
more  than  two  years  has  made  in  his  opin- 
ions on  the  subject  of  a policy  of  immediate 
and  unconditional  abolition.  In  February, 
1843,  he  was  pointing  out  to  the  electors  of 
Edinburgh  the  unwisdom  of  refusing  a com- 
promise, and  in  December,  1845,  he  is  writing 
to  Edinburgh  to  say  that  the  one  only  thing 
for  which  he  must  stipulate  was  total  and  im- 
mediate repeal.  The  Anti-Corn-Law  League 
might  well  be  satisfied  with  the  propagandist 
work  they  had  done.  The  League  itself 
looked  on  very  composedly  during  these  lit- 
tle altercations  and  embarrassments  of  par- 
ties. They  knew  well  enough  now  that  let 
who  would  take  power  he  must  carry  out 
their  policy.  At  a meeting  of  the  League, 
which  was  held  in  Covent  Garden  Theatre 
on  the  17th  of  this  memorable  month,  and 
while  the  negotiations  were  still  going  on, 
Mr.  Cobden  declared  that  he  and  his  friends 
had  not  striven  to  keep  one  party  in  or  an- 
other out  of  office.  “ We  have  worked  with 
but  one  principle  and  one  object  in  view  ; 
and  if  we  maintain  that  principle  for  but  six 
months  more,  we  shall  attain  to  that  state 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


51 


which  I have  so  long  and  so  anxiously  desir- 
ed, when  the  League  shall  be  dissolved  into 
its  primitive  elements  by  the  triumph  of  its 
principles.  ” 

Lord  John  Russell  found  it  impossible  to 
form  a Ministry.  He  signified  his  failure  to 
the  Queen.  Probably,  having  done  the  best 
lie  could,  he  was  not  particularly  distressed 
to  find  that  his  efforts  were  ineffectual.  The 
Queen  had  to  send  for  Sir  Robert  Peel  to 
Windsor  and  tell  him  that  she  must  require 
him  to  withdraw  his  resignation  and  to  re- 
main in  her  service.  Sir  Robert  of  course 
could  only  comply.  The  Queen  offered  to 
give  him  some  time  to  enter  into  communica- 
tion with  his  colleagues,  but  Sir  Robert  very 
wisely  thought  that  he  could  speak  with 
much  greater  authority  if  he  were  to  invite 
them  to  support  him  in  an  effort  on  which 
he  was  determined  and  which  he  had  posi- 
tively undertaken  to  make.  He  therefore  re- 
turned from  Windsor  on  the  evening  of  De- 
cember 20,  “having  resumed  all  the  func- 
tions of  First  Minister  of  the  Crown.”  The 
Duke  of  Buccleuch  withdrew  his  opposition 
to  the  policy  which  Peel  was  now  to  carry 
out ; but  Lord  Stanley  remained  firm.  The 
place  of  the  latter  was  taken  as  Secretary  of 
State  for  the  Colonies  by  Mr.  Gladstone, 
who,  however,  curiously  enough  remained 
without  a seat  iu  Parliament  during  the 
eventful  session  that  was  now  to  come.  Mr. 
Gladstone  had  sat  for  the  borough  of  New- 
ark, but  that  borough  being  under  the  influ- 
ence of  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  who  had 
withdrawn  his  support  from  the  Ministry,  he 
did  not  invite  re-election,  but  remained  with- 
out a seat  in  the  House  of  Commons  for 
some  months.  Sir  Robert  Peel  then,  to  use 
his  own  words  in  a letter  to  the  Princess  de 
Lieven,  resumed  power  “ with  greater  means 
of  rendering  public  service  than  I should 
have  had  if  I had  not  relinquished  it.  ” He 
felt,  he  said,  ‘ ‘ like  a man  restored  to  life 
after  his  funeral  service  had  been  preached.  ” 

Parliament  was  summoned  to  meet  in  Jan- 
uary. In  the  meantime  it  was  easily  seen 
how  the  Protectionists  and  the  Tories  of  the 
extreme  order  generally  would  regard  the 
proposals  of  Sir  Robert  Peel.  Protectionist 
meetings  were  held  in  various  parts  of  the 
country,  and  they  were  all  but  unanimous  in 
condemning  by  anticipation  the  policy  of 
the  restored  Premier.  Resolutions  were 
passed  at  many  of  these  meetings  expressing 
an  equal  disbelief  in  the  Prime  Minister  and 
in  the  famine.  Tbe  utmost  indignation  was 
expressed  at  the  idea  of  there  being  any  fam- 
ine in  prospect  which  could  cause  any  de- 
parture from  the  principles  which  secured  to 
the  farmers  a certain  fixed  price  for  their 
grain,  or  at  least  prevented  the  price  from 
falling  below  what  they  considered  a paying 
amount.  Not  less  absurd  than  the  protesta- 
tions that  there  would  be  no  famine  were 
some  of  the  remedies  which  were  suggested 
for  it  if  it  should  insist  on  coming  in.  The 
Duke  of  Norfolk  of  that  time  made  himself 
particularly  conspicuous  by  a beneficent  sug- 
gestion which  he  offered  to  a distressed  pop- 
ulation. He  went  about  recommending  a 
curry  powder  of  his  own  device  as  a charm 
against  hunger. 

Parliament  met.  The  openiug  day  was 
January  22,  1846.  The  Queen  in  person 
opened  the  session,  and  the  speech  from  the 
throne  said  a good  deal  about  the  condition 
of  Ireland  and  the  failure  of  the  potato 
crop.  The  speech  contained  one  significant 
sentence.  “I  have  had,”  her  Majesty  was 
made  to  say,  “ great  satisfaction  in  giving  my 
asseut  to  the  measures  which  you  have  pre- 
sented to  me  from  time  to  time,  calculated  to 
extend  commerce  and  to  stimulate  domestic 
skill  and  industry,  by  the  repeal  of  prohibi- 
tive and  the  relaxation  of  protective  duties. 
I recommend  you  to  take  into  your  early 
consideration  whether  the  principle  on  which 
you  have  acted  may  not  with  advantage  be 
yet  more  extensively  applied.”  Before  the 
address  in  reply  to  the  speech  from  the  throne 


was  moved,  Sir  Robert  Peel  gave  notice  of 
the  intention  of  the  Government  on  the  earli- 
est possible  day  to  submit  to  the  considera- 
tion of  the  House  measures  connected  with 
the  commercial  and  financial  affairs  of  the 
country. 

There  are  few  scenes  more  animated  and 
exciting  than  that  presented  by  the  House  of 
Commons  on  some  night  when  a great  de- 
bate is  expected,  or  when  some  momentous 
announcement  is  to  be  made.  A common  thrill 
seems  to  tremble  all  through  the  assembly  as 
a breath  of  wind  runs  across  the  sea.  The 
House  appears  for  the  moment  to  be  one  body 
pervaded  by  one  expectation.  The  minis- 
terial benches,  the  front  benches  of  opposi- 
tion, are  occupied  by  the  men  of  political  re- 
nown and  of  historic  name.  The  benches 
everywhere  else  are  crowded  to  their  utmost 
capacity.  Members  who  cannot  get  seats — 
on  such  an  occasion  a goodly  number — stand 
below  the  bar  or  have  to  dispose  themselves 
along  the  side  galleries.  The  celebrities  are 
not  confined  to  the  Treasury  benches  or 
those  of  the  leaders  of  opposition.  Here  and 
there,  among  the  independent  members  and 
below  the  gangway  on  both  sides,  are  seen 
men  of  influence  and  renown.  At  the  open- 
ing of  Parliament  in  1846  this  was  especially 
to  be  observed.  The  rising  fame  of  the  Free 
Trade  leaders  made  them  almost  like  a third 
great  party  in  the  House  of  Commons.  The 
strangers’  gallery,  the  Speaker’s  gallery,  on 
such  a night  are  crowded  to  excess.  The  eye 
surveys  the  whole  House  and  sees  no  vacant 
place.  In  the  very  hum  of  conversation  that 
runs  along  the  benches  there  is  a tone  of  pro- 
found anxiety.  The  minister  who  has  to 
face  that  House  and  make  the  announcement 
for  which  all  are  waiting  in  a most  feverish 
anxiety  is  a man  to  be  envied  by  the  ambi- 
tious. This  time  there  was  a curiosity  about 
everything.  What  was  the  minister  about  to 
announce  ? When  and  in  what  fashion 
would  he  announce  it?  Would  the  Whig 
leaders  speak  before  the  ministerial  announce- 
ment? Would  the  Free  Traders?  What 
voice  would  first  hint  to  the  expectant  Com- 
mons the  course  which  political  events  were 
destined  to  take  ? The  moving  of  an  address 
to  the  throne  is  always  a formal  piece  of  bus- 
iness. It  would  be  hardly  possible  for  Cicero 
or  Burke  to  be  very  interesting  when  per- 
forming such  a task.  On  the  other  hand,  it 
is  an  excellent  chance  for  a young  beginner. 
He  finds  the  House  in  a sort  of  contemptuously 
indulgent  mood,  prepared  to  welcome  the 
slightest  evidence  of  any  capacity  of  speech 
above  the  dullest  mediocrity.  He  can  hardly 
say  anything  absurd  or  offensive  unless  he 
goes  absolutely  out  of  his  way  to  make  a fool 
of  himself  ; and  on  the  other  hand  he  can 
easily  say  his  little  nothings  in  a graceful 
way,  and  receive  grateful  applause  accord- 
ingly from  an  assembly  which  counts  on  be- 
ing bored,  and  feels  doubly  indebted  to  the 
speaker  who  is  even  in  the  slightest  degree  an 
agreeable  disappointment.  On  this  particu- 
lar occasion,  however,  the  duty  of  the  pro- 
poser and  seconder  of  the  address  was  made 
specially  trying  by  the  fact  that  they  had  to 
interfere  with  merely  formal  utterances  be- 
tween an  eager  House  and  an  exciting  an- 
nouncement. A certain  piquancy  was  lent, 
however,  to  the  performance  of  the  duty  by 
the  fact,  which  the  speeches  made  evident 
beyond  the  possibility  of  mistake,  that  the 
proposer  of  the  address  knew  quite  well  what 
the  Government  were  about  to  do,  and  that 
the  seconder  knew  nothing  whatever. 

Now  the  formal  task  is  done.  The  address 
has  been  moved  and  seconded.  The  Speaker 
puts  the  question  that  the  address  be  adopted. 
Now  is  the  time  for  debate,  if  debate  there  is 
to  be.  On  such  occasions  there  is  always 
some  discussion,  but  it  is  commonly  as  mere 
a piece  of  formality  as  the  address  itself.  It 
is  understood  that  the  leader  of  opposition 
will  say  something  meaning  next  to  nothing  ; 
that  two  or  three  men  will  grumble  vaguely 
at  the  Ministry  ; that  the  leader  of  the  House 


will  reply  ; and  then  the  affair  is  all  over. 
But  on  this  occasion  it  was  certain  that  some 
momentous  announcement  would  have  to  be 
made  ; and  the  question  was  when  it  would 
come.  Perhaps  no  one  expected  exactly 
what  did  happen.  Nothing  can  be  more  un- 
usual than  for  the  leader  of  the  House  to 
open  the  debate  on  such  an  occasion  ; and 
Sir  Robert  Peel  was  usually  somewhat  of  a 
formalist,  who  kept  to  the  regular  ways  in  all 
that  pertained  to  the  business  of  the  House. 
No  eyes  of  expectation  were  turned  therefore 
to  the  ministerial  bench  at  the  moment  after 
the  formal  putting  of  the  question  by  the 
Speaker.  It  was  rather  expected  that  Lord 
John  Russell,  or  perhaps  Mr.  Cobden,  would 
arise.  But  a surprised  murmur  running 
through  all  parts  of  the  House  soon  told  those 
who  could  not  see  the  Treasury  bench  that 
something  unusual  had  happened  ; and  in  a 
moment  the  voice  of  the  Prime  Minister  was 
heard — that  marvellous  voice  of  which  Lord 
Beaconsfield  says  that  it  had  not  in  his  time 
any  equal  in  the  House  “ unless  we  except 
the  thrilling  tones  of  O’Connell  ” — and  it 
was  known  that  the  great  explanation  was 
coming  at  once. 

The  explanation  even  now,  however,  was 
somewhat  deferred.  The  Prime  Minister 
showed  a deliberate  intention,  it  might  have 
been  thought,  not  to  come  to  the  point  at 
once.  He  went  into  long  and  labored  expla- 
nations of  the  manner  in  which  his  mind  had 
been  brought  into  a change  on  the  subject  of 
Free  Trade  and  Protection  ; and  he  gave  ex- 
haustive calculations  to  show  that  the  reduc- 
tion of  duty  was  constantly  followed  by 
expansion  of  the  revenue,  and  even  a main- 
tenance of  high  prices.  The  duties  on  glass, 
the  duties  on  flax,  the  prices  of  salt  pork  and 
domestic  lard,  the  contract  price  of  salt  beef 
for  the  navy — these  and  many  other  such 
topics  were  discussed  at  great  length  and 
with  elaborate  fulness  of  detail  in  the  hearing 
of  an  eager  House  anxious  only  for  that  night 
to  know  whether  or  not  the  minister  meant 
to  introduce  the  principle  of  Free  Trade. 
Peel,  however,  made  it  clear  enough  that  he 
had  become  a complete  convert  to  the  doc- 
trines of  the  Manchester  school,  and  that  in 
his  opinion  the  time  had  come  when  that 
protection  which  he  had  taken  office  to  main- 
tain must  for  ever  be  abandoned.  One  sen- 
tence at  the  close  of  his  speech  was  made  the 
occasion  of  much  labored  criticism  and  some 
severe  accusation.  It  was  that  in  which  Peel 
declared  that  he  found  it  “ no  easy  task  to 
ensure  the  harmonious  and  united  action  of 
an  ancient  monarchy,  a proud  aristocracy, 
and  a reformed  House  of  Commons.  ’ ’ 

The  explanation  was  over.  The  House  of 
Commons  were  left  rather  to  infer  than  to 
understand  what  the  Government  proposed 
to  do.  Lord  John  Russell  entered  into  some 
personal  explanations  relating  to  his  en- 
deavor to  form  a Ministry,  and  the  causes  of 
its  failure.  These  have  not  much  interest 
for  a later  time.  It  might  have  seemed  that 
the  work  of  the  night  was  done.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  the  ministerial  policy  could  not  be 
discussed  then  ; for  in  fact  it  had  not  been 
announced.  The  House  knew  that  the 
Prime  Minister  was  a convert  to  the  princi- 
ples of  Free  Trade  ; but  that  was  all  that  any 
one  could  be  said  to  know  except  those  who 
were  in  the  secrets  of  the  Cabinet.  There 
appeared  therefore  nothing  for,  it  but  to  wait 
until  the  time  should  come  for  the  formal  an- 
nouncement and  the  full  discussion  of  the 
Government  measures.  Suddenly,  however, 
a new  and  striking  figure  intervened  in  the 
languishing  debate,  and  filled  the  House  of 
Commons  with  a fresh  life.  There  is  not 
often  to  be  found  in  our  Parliamentary  his- 
tory an  example  like  this  of  a sudden  turn 
given  to  a whole  career  by  a timely  speech. 
The  member  who  rose  to  comment  on  the  ex- 
planation of  Sir  Robert  Peel  had  been  for 
many  years  in  the  House  of  Commons.  This 
was  his  tenth  session.  He  had  spoken  often 
in  each  session.  He  had  made  many  bold 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 


52 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


attempts  to  win  a name  in  Parliament,  and 
hitherto  his  political  career  had  been  simply 
a failure.  From  the  hour  when  he  spoke 
this  speech,  it  was  one  long,  unbroken,  bril- 
liant success. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

MR.  DISRAELI. 

The  speaker  who  rose  into  such  sudden 
prominence  and  something  like  the  position 
of  a party  leader  was  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable men  the  politics  of  the  reign  have 
produced.  Perhaps,  if  the  word  remarkable 
were  to  be  used  in  its  most  strict  sense,  and 
without  particular  reference  to  praise,  it 
would  be  just  to  describe  him  as  emphatically 
the  most  remarkable  man  that  the  political 
controversies  of  the  present  reign  have  called 
into  power.  Mr.  Disraeli  entered  the  House 
of  Commons  as  Conservative  member  for 
Maidstone  in  1837.  He  was  then  about 
thirty-two  years  of  age.  He  had  previously 
made  repeated  and  unsuccessful  attempts  to 
get  a seat  in  Parliament.  He  began  his  pol- 
itical career  as  an  advanced  Liberal,  and  had 
come  out  under  the  auspices  of  Daniel 
O’Connell  and  Joseph  Hume.  He  had  de- 
scribed himself  as  one  who  desired  to  fight  the 
battle  of  the  people,  and  who  was  supported 
by  neither  of  the  aristocratic  parties.  He  failed 
again  and  again,  and  apparently  he  began  to 
think  that  it  would  be  a wiser  thing  to  look 
for  the  support  of  one  or  other  of  the  aristo- 
cratic parties.  He  had  before  this  given  in- 
dications of  remarkable  literary  talent,  if  in- 
deed it  might  not  he  called  genius.  His 
novel,  “Vivian  Grey,”  published  when  he 
was  in  his  twenty-third  year,  was  suffused 
with  extravagance,  affectation,  and  mere  an- 
imal spirits  ; but  it  was  full  of  the  evidences 
of  a fresh  and  brilliant  ability.  The  son  of  a 
distinguished  literary  man,  Mr.  Disraeli  had 
probably  at  that  time  only  a young  literary 
man’s  notions  of  politics.  It  is  not  neces- 
sary to  charge  him  with  deliberate  inconsist- 
ency because  from  having  been  a Radical  of 
the  most  advanced  views  he  became  by  an 
easy  leap  a romantic  Tory.  It  is  not  likely 
that  at  the  beginning  of  his  career  he  had  any 
very  clear  ideas  in  connection  with  the  words 
Tory  or  Radical.  He  wrote  a letter  to  Mr. 
W.  J.  Fox,  already  described  as  an  eminent 
Unitarian  minister  and  rising  politician,  in 
which  he  declared  that  his  forte  was  sedition. 
Most  clever  young  men  who  are  not  born  to 
fortune,  and  who  feel  drawn  into  political 
life,  fancy  too  that  their  forte  is  sedition. 
When  young  Disraeli  found  that  sedition 
and  even  advanced  Radicalism  did  not  do 
much  to  get  him  into  Parliament,  he  prob- 
ably began  to  ask  himself  whether  his  Lib- 
eral convictions  were  so  deeply  rooted  as  to 
call  for  the  sacrifice  of  a career.  He  thought 
the  question  over,  and  doubtless  found  him- 
self crystallizing  fast  into  an  advocate  of  the 
established  order  of  things.  In  a purely  per- 
sonal light  tliis  was  a fortunate  conclusion 
for  the  ambitious  young  politician.  He 
could  not  then  have  anticipated  the  extraor- 
dinary change  which  was  to  be  wrought  in 
the  destiny  and  the  composition  of  the  Tory 
party  by  the  eloquence,  the  arguments,  and 
the  influence  of  two  men  who  at  that  time 
were  almost  absolutely  unknown.  Mr.  Cob- 
den  stood  for  the  first  time  as  a candidate  for 
a seat  in  Parliament  in  the  year  that  saw  Mr. 
Disraeli  elected  for  the  first  time, and  Mr.  Cob- 
den  was  unsuccessful.  Cobden  had  to  wait  four 
years  before  he  found  his  way  into  the  House 
of  Commons  ; Bright  did  not  become  a mem- 
ber of  Parliament  until  some  two  years  later 
still.  It  was,  however,  the  Anti-Corn-Law  agi- 
tation which,  by  conquering  Peel  and  making 
him  its  advocate,  brought  about  the  memora- 
ble split  in  the  Conservative  party,  and  car- 
ried away  from  the  cause  of  the  country 
squires  nearly  all  the  men  of  talent  who  had 
hitherto  been  with  them.  A new  or  middle 
party  of  so-called  Peelites  was  formed.  Gra- 
ham, Gladstone,  Sidney  Herbert,  Cardwell, 
and  other  men  of  equal  mark  or  promise, 


joined  it,  and  the  country  party  was  left  to 
seek  for  leadership  in  the  earnest  spirit  and 
very  moderate  talents  of  Lord  George  Ben- 
tinck.  Mr.  Disraeli  then  found  his  chance. 
His  genius  was  such  that  it  must  have  made 
a way  for  him  anywhere  and  in  spite  of  any 
competition  ; but  it  is  not  too  much  to  say 
that  his  career  of  political  advancement 
might  have  been  very  different  if  in  place  of 
finding  himself  the  only  man  of  first-class 
ability  in  the  party  to  which  he  had  attached 
himself,  he  had  been  a member  of  a party 
which  had  Palmerston  and  Russell  and  Glad- 
stone and  Graham  for  its  captains,  and  Cob- 
den and  Bright  for  its  habitual  supporters. 

This,  however,  could  not  have  been  in  Mr. 
Disraeli’s  thoughts  when  he  changed  from 
Radicalism  to  Conservatism.  No  trace  of 
the  progress  of  conversion  can  he  found  in  his 
speeches  or  his  writings.  It  is  not  unreason- 
able to  infer  that  he  took  up  Radicalism  at 
the  beginning  because  it  looked  the  most  pic- 
turesque and  romantic  thing  to  do,  and  that 
only  as  he  found  it  fail  to  answer  his  personal 
object  did  it  occur  to  him  that  he  had  after 
all  more  affinity  with  the  cause  of  the  coun- 
try gentlemen.  The  reputation  he  had  made 
for  himself  before  his  going  into  Parliament 
was  of  a nature  rather  calculated  to  retard 
than  to  advance  a political  career.  He  was 
looked  upon  almost  universally  as  an  eccen- 
tric and  audacious  adventurer,  who  was  kept 
from  being  dangerous  by  the  affectations  and 
absurdities  of  his  conduct.  He  dressed  in 
the  extremest  style  of  preposterous  foppery  ; 
he  talked  a blending  of  cynicism  and  senti- 
ment ; he  had  made  the  most  reckless  state- 
ments ; his  boasting  was  almost  outrageous  ; 
his  rhetoric  of  abuse  was,  even  in  that  free- 
spoken  time,  astonishingly  vigorous  and  un- 
restrained. Even  his  literary  efforts  did  not 
then  receive  anything  like  the  appreciation 
they  have  obtained  since.  At  that  time  they 
were  regarded  rather  as  audacious  whimsi- 
calities, the  fantastic  freaks  of  a clever  youth, 
than  as  genuine  works  of  a certain  kind  of 
art.  Even  when  he  did  get  into  the  House 
of  Commons,  his  first  experience  there  was 
little  calculated  to  give  him  much  hope  of 
success.  Reading  over  this  first  speech  now, 
it  seems  hard  to  understand  why  it  should 
have  excited  so  much  laughter  and  derision  ; 
why  it  should  have  called  forth  nothing  but 
laughter  and  derision.  It  is  a clever  speech, 
full  of  point  and  odd  conceits  ; very  like  in 
style  and  structure  many  of  the  speeches 
which  in  later  years  won  for  the  same  orator 
the  applause  of  the  House  of  Commons. 
But  Mr.  Disraeli’s  reputation  had  preceded 
him  into  the  House.  Up  to  this  time  his  life 
had  been,  says  an  unfriendly  but  not  an  unjust 
critic,  “ an  almost  uninterrupted  career  of 
follies  and  defeats.”  The  House  was  prob- 
ably in  a humor  to  find  the  speech  ridiculous 
because  the  general  impression  was  that  the 
man  himself  was  ridiculous.  Mr.  Disraeli’s 
appearance,  too,  no  doubt,  contributed  some- 
thing to  the  contemptuous  opinion  which 
was  formed  of  him  on  his  first  attempt  to  ad- 
dress the  assembly  which  he  afterwards  came 
to  rule.  He  is  described  by  an  observer  as 
having  been  attired  “ in  a bottle-green  frock 
coat  and  a waistcoat  of  white,  of  the  Dick 
Swiveller  pattern,  the  front  of  which  ex- 
hibited a network  of  glittering  chains  ; large 
fancy  - pattern  pantaloons,  and  a black  tie, 
above  which  no  shirt-collar  was  visible,  com- 
pleted the  outward  man.  A countenance 
lividly  pale,  set  out  by  a pair  of  intensely 
black  eyes,  and  a broad  but  not  very  high 
forehead,  overhung  by  clustering  ringlets  of 
coal-black  hair,  which,  combed  away  from 
the  right  temple,  fell  in  bunches  of  well-oiled 
small  ringlets  over  his  left  cheek.  ” His  man- 
ner was  intensely  theatric  ; his  gestures  were 
wild  and  extravagant.  In  all  this  there  is 
not  much,  however,  to  surprise  those  who 
knew  Mr.  Disraeli  in  his  greater  days.  His 
style  was  always  extravagant  ; his  rhetoric 
constantly  degenerated  into  vulgarity  ; his 
whole  manner  was  that  of  the  typical  foreigner 


whom  English  people  regard  as  the  illustra- 
tion of  all  that  is  vehement  and  unquiet.  But 
whatever  the  cause,  it  is  certain  that  on  the 
occasion  of  his  first  attempt  Mr.  Disraeli 
made  not  merely  a failure,  but  even  a ludicrous 
failure.  One  who  heard  the  debate  thus  de- 
scribes the  manner  in  which,  baffled  by  the 
persistent  laughter  and  other  interruptions 
of  the  noisy  House,  the  orator  withdrew  from 
the  discussion,  defeated  but  not  discouraged. 
“ At  last,  losing  his  temper,  which  until  now 
he  had  preserved  in  a wonderful  manner,  he 
paused  in  the  midst  of  a sentence,  and  look- 
ing the  Liberals  indignantly  in  the  face,  raised 
his  hands,  and  opening  his  mouth  as  widely 
as  its  dimensions  would  admit,  said  in  a re- 
markably loud  and  almost  terrific  tone,  ‘ I 
have  begun,  several  times,  many  things,  and 
I have  often  succeeded  at  last ; ay,  sir,  and 
though  I sit  down  now,  the  time  will  come 
when  you  will  hear  me.’  ” This  final  pre- 
diction is  so  like  what  a manufacturer  of  bi- 
ography would  make  up  for  a hero,  and  is  so 
like  what  was  actually  said  in  one  or  two 
other  remarkable  instances,  that  a reader 
might  be  excused  for  doubting  its  authentici- 
ty in  this  case.  But  nothing  can  be  more  cer- 
tain than  the  fact  that  Mr.  Disraeli  did  bring 
to  a close  his  maiden  speech  in  the  House  of 
Commons  with  this  bold  prediction.  The 
words  are  to  be  found  in  the  reports  published 
next  morning  in  all  the  daily  papers  of  the 
metropolis. 

It  was  thus  that  Mr.  Disraeli  began  his 
career  as  a Parliamentary  orator.  It  is  a cu- 
rious fact  that  on  that  occasion  almost  the 
only  one  of  his  hearers  who  seems  to  have 
admired  the  speech  was  Sir  Robert  Peel.  It 
is  by  his  philippic  against  Peel  that  Disraeli 
is  now  about  to  convince  the  House  of  Com- 
mons that  the  man  they  laughed  at  before  is 
a great  Parliamentary  orator. 

Disraeli  was  not  in  the  least  discouraged 
by  his  first  failure.  A few  days  after  it  he 
spoke  again,  and  he  spoke  three  or  four  times 
more  during  his  first  session.  But  he  had 
learned  some  wisdom  by  rough  experience, 
and  he  did  not  make  his  oratorical  flights  so 
long  or  so  ambitious  as  that  first  attempt. 
Then  he  seemed  after  a while,  as  he  grew 
more  familiar  with  the  House,  to  go  in  for 
being  paradoxical ; for  making  himself  always 
conspicuous  ; for  taking  up  positions  and  ex- 
pounding political  creeds  which  other  men 
would  have  avoided.  It  is  very  difficult  to 
get  any  clear  idea  of  what  his  opinions  were 
about  this  period  of  his  career,  if  he  had  any 
political  opinions  at  all.  Our  impression  is 
that  he  really  had  no  opinions  at  that  time  ; 
that  he  was  only  in  quest  of  opinions.  He 
spoke  on  subjects  of  which  it  was  evident 
that  he  knew  nothing,  and  sometimes  he 
managed  by  the  sheer  force  of  a strong  intel- 
ligence to  discern  the  absurdity  of  economic 
sophistries  which  had  baffled  men  of  far 
greater  experience,  and  which  indeed,  to 
judge  from  his  personal  declarations  and  po- 
litical conduct  afterwards,  he  allowed  before 
long  to  baffle  and  bewilder  himself  More 
often  however  he  talked  with  a grandiose  and 
oracular  vagueness  which  seemed  to  imply 
that  he  alone  of  all  men  saw  into  the  very 
heart  of  the  question,  but  that  he  of  all  men 
must  not  yet  reveal  what  he  saw.  At  his 
best  of  times  Mr.  Disraeli  was  an  example  of 
that  class  of  being  whom  Macaulay  declares 
to  be  so  rare  that  Lord  Chatham  appears  to 
him  almost  a solitary  illustration  of  it — “a 
great  man  of  real  genius,  and  of  a brave, 
lofty,  and  commanding  spirit,  without  sim- 
plicity of  character.  ” What  Macaulay  goes 
on  to  say  of  Chatham  will  bear  quotation 
too.  “ He  was  an  actor  in  the  closet,  an 
actor  at  council,  an  actor  in  Parliament  ; and 
even  in  private  society  he  could  not  la}'  aside 
his  theatrical  tones  and  attitudes.  Mr.  Dis- 
raeli was  at  one  period  of  his  career  so  affect- 
ed that  he  positively  affected  affectation. 
Yet  he  was  a man  of  undoubted  genius  ; he 
had  a spirit  that  never  quailed  under  stress 
of  any  circumstances,  however  disheartening  ; 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


53 


he  commanded  as  scarcely  any  statesman 
since  Chatham  himself  has  been  able  to  do  ; 
and  it  would  be  unjust  and  absurd  to  deny  to 
a man  gifted  with  qualities  like  these  the 
possession  of  a lofty  nature. 

For  some  time  Mr.  Disraeli  then  seemed 
resolved  to  make  himself  remarkable — to  be 
talked  about.  He  succeeded  admirably.  He 
was  talked  about.  All  the  political  and  satir- 
ical journals  of  the  day  had  a great  deal  to 
say  about  him.  He  is  not  spoken  of  in  terms 
of  praise  as  a rule.  Neither  has  he  much 
praise  to  shower  about  him.  Any  one  who 
looks  back  to  the  political  controversies  of 
that  time  will  be  astounded  at  the  language 
which  Mr.  Disraeli  addresses  to  his  oppo- 
nents of  the  press,  and  which  his  opponents 
address  to  him.  In  some  cases  it  is  no  exag- 
geration to  say  that  a squabble  between  two 
Billingsgate  fishwomen  in  our  day  would 
have  good  chance  of  ending  without  the  use 
of  words  and  phrases  so  coarse  as  those 
which  then  passed  between  this  brilliant  lit- 
erary man  and  some  of  his  assailants.  We 
have  all  read  the  history  of  the  controversy 
between  him  and  O’Connell,  and  the  savage 
ferocity  of  the  language  with  which  O’Con- 
nell denounced  him  as  “a  miscreant,”  as 
“ a wretch,”  “ a liar,”  “ whose  life  is  a liv- 
ing lie  and  finally  as  “ the  heir-at-law  of 
the  blasphemous  thief  who  died  impenitent 
on  the  Cross.”  Mr.  Disraeli  begins  his  re- 
ply by  describing  himself  as  one  of  those 
who  “ will  not  be  insulted  even  by  a Yahoo 
without  chastising  it  and  afterwards,  in  a 
letter  to  one  of  Mr.  O’Connell’s  sons,  declares 
his  desire  to  express  “ the  utter  scorn  in 
which  I hold  his  [Mr.  O’Connell’s]  charac- 
ter, and  the  disgust  with  which  his  conduct 
inspires  me  and  informs  the  son  that  “ I 
shall  take  every  opportunity  of  holding  your 
father’s  name  up  to  public  contempt,  and  I 
fervently  pray  that  you  or  some  one  of  your 
blood  may  attempt  to  avenge  the  inextin- 
guishable hatred  with  which  I shall  pursue 
his  existence.”  In  reading  of  a controversy 
like  this  between  two  public  men,  we  seem 
to  be  transported  back  to  an  age  having  ab- 
solutely nothing  in  common  with  our  own. 
It  appears  almost  impossible  to  believe  that 
men  still  active  in  political  life  were  active 
in  political  life  then.  Yet  this  is  not  the 
most  astonishing  specimen  of  the  sort  of 
controversy  in  which  Mr.  Disraeli  became 
engaged  in  his  younger  days.  Nothing 
perhaps  that  the  political  literature  of  the 
time  preserves  could  exceed  the  ferocity  of 
his  controversial  duel  with  O’Connell  ; but 
there  are  many  samples  of  the  rhetoric  of 
abuse  to  be  found  in  the  journals  of  the  time 
which  would  far  less  bear  exposure  to  the 
gaze  of  the  fastidious  public  of  our  day. 
The  duelling  system  survived  then  and  for 
long  after,  and  Mr.  Disraeli  always  professed 
himself  ready  to  sustain  with  his  pistol  any- 
thing that  his  lips  might  have  given  utterance 
to,  even  in  the  reckless  heat  of  controversy. 
The  social  temper  which  in  our  time  insists 
that  the  first  duty  of  a gentleman  is  to  apolo- 
gize for  an  unjust  or  offensive  expression 
used  in  debate,  was  unknown  then.  Per- 
haps it  could  hardly  exist  to  any  great  extent 
in  the  company  of  the  duelling  system. 
When  a man’s  withdrawal  of  an  offensive 
expression  might  be  imputed  to  a want  of 
physical  courage,  the  courtesy  which  impels 
a gentleman  to  atone  for  a wrong  is  not  like- 
ly to  tiiumph  very  often  over  the  fear  of  be- 
ing accounted  a coward.  If  any  one  doubts 
the  superiority  of  manners  as  well  as  of 
morals  which  comes  of  our  milder  ways,  he 
has  only  to  read  a few  specimens  of  the  con- 
troversies of  Mr.  Disraeli’s  earlier  days,  when 
men  who  aspired  to  be  considered  great  po- 
litical leaders  thought  it  not  unbecoming  to 
call  names  like  a costermonger,  and  to  swag- 
ger like  Bobadil  or  the  Copper  Captain. 

Mr.  Disraeli  kept  himself  well  up  to  the 
level  of  his  time  in  the  calling  of  names  and 
the  swaggering.  But  he  was  making  himself 
remarkable  in  political  controversy  as  well. 


In  the  House  of  Commons  he  began  to  be 
regarded  as  a dangerous  adversary  in  debate. 
He  was  wonderfully  ready  with  retort  and 
sarcasm.  But  during  all  the  earlier  part  of  his 
career  he  was  thought  of  only  as  a free  lance. 
He  had  praised  Peel  when  Peel  said  some- 
thing that  suited  him,  or  when  to  praise  Peel 
seemed  likely  to  wound  some  one  else.  But 
it  was  during  the  debates  on  the  abolition  of 
the  Corn  Laws  that  he  first  rose  to  the  fame 
of  agreat  debater  and  a powerful  Parliament- 
ary orator.  We  use  the  words  Parliament- 
ary orator  with  the  purpose  of  conveying  a 
special  qualification.  He  is  a great  Parlia- 
mentary orator  who  can  employ  the  kind  of 
eloquence  and  argument  which  tell  most 
readily  on  Parliament.  But  it  must  not  be 
supposed  that  the  great  Parliamentary  orator 
is  necessarily  a great  orator  in  the  wider 
sense.  Some  of  the  men  who  made  the 
greatest  successes  as  Parliamentary  orators 
have  failed  to  win  any  genuine  reputations  as 
orators  of  the  broader  and  higher  school. 
The  fame  of  Charles  Townshend’s  ‘‘  cham- 
pagne speech”  has  vanished,  evanescent  al- 
most as  the  bubbles  from  which  it  derived  its 
inspiration  and  its  name.  No  one  now  reads 
many  even  of  the  fragments  preserved  for  us 
of  those  speeches  of  Sheridan  which  those 
who  heard  them  declared  to  have  surpassed  all 
ancient  and  modern  eloquence.  The  House  of 
Commons  often  found  Burke  dull,  and  the 
speeches  of  Burke  have  passed  into  English 
literature  secure  of  a perpetual  place  there. 
Mr.  Disraeli  never  succeeded  in  being  more 
than  a Parliamentary  orator,  and  probably 
would  not  have  cared  to  be  anything  more. 
But  even  at  this  comparatively  early  date, 
and  while  he  had  still  the  reputation  of  being 
a whimsical,  self-confident  and  feather-head- 
ed adventurer,  he  soon  won  for  himself  the 
name  of  one  who  could  hold  his  own  in  re- 
tort and  in  sarcasm  against  any  antagonist. 
The  days  of  the  more  elaborate  oratory  were 
going  by,  and  the  time  was  coming  when  the 
pungent  epigram,  the  sparkling  paradox,  the 
rattling  attack,  the  vivid  repartee,  would 
count  for  the  most  attractive  part  of  elo- 
quence with  the  House  of  Commons. 

Mr.  Disraeli  was  exactly  the  man  to  suc- 
ceed under  the  new  conditions  of  Parlia- 
mentary eloquence.  Hitherto  he  had  wanted 
a cause  to  inspire  and  justify  audacity,  and 
on  which  to  employ  with  effect  his  remark- 
able resources  of  sarcasm  and  rhetoric. 
Hitherto  he  had  addressed  an  audience  out 
of  sympathy  with  him  for  the  most  part. 
Now  he  was  about  to  become  the  spokesman 
of  a large  body  of  men  who,  chafing  and  al- 
most choking  with  wrath,  were  not  capable 
of  speaking  effectively  for  themselves.  Mr. 
Disraeli  did  therefore  the  very  wisest  thing 
he  could  do  when  he  launched  at  once  into 
a savage  personal  attack  upon  Sir  Robert 
Peel.  The  speech  abounds  iD  passages  of 
audaciously  powerful  sarcasm.  “ I am  not  one 
of  the  converts,”  Mr.  Disraeli  said.  “ I am 
perhaps  a member  of  a fallen  party.  To  the 
opinions  which  I have  expressed  in  this 
House  in  favor  of  Protection  I still  adhere. 
They  sent  me  to  this  House,  and  if  I had  re- 
linquished them  I should  have  relinquished 
my  seat  also.”  That  was  the  key-note  of 
the  speech.  He  denounced  Sir  Robert  Peel 
not  for  having  changed  his  opinions,  but  for 
having  retained  a position  which  enabled  him 
to  betray  his  party.  He  compared  Peel  to 
the  Lord  High  Admiral  of  the  Turkish  fleet, 
who,  at  a great  warlike  crisis  when  he  was 
placed  at  the  head  of  the  finest  armament 
that  ever  left  the  Dardanelles  since  the  days 
of  Solyman  the  Great,  steered  at  once  for  the 
enemy’s  port,  and  when  arraigned  as  a 
traitor,  said  that  he  really  saw  no  use  in  pro- 
longing a hopeless  struggle,  and  that  he  had 
accepted  the  command  of  the  fleet  only  to 
put  the  Sultan  out  of  pain  by  bringing  the 
struggle  to  a close  at  once.  “ Well  do  we 
remember,  on  this  side  of  the  House — not 
perhaps  without  a blush — the  efforts  we 
made  to  raise  him  to  the  bench  where  he  now 


sits.  Who  does  not  remember  the  sacred 
cause  of  Protection  for  which  sovereigns 
were  thwarted,  Parliament  dissolved,  and  a 
nation  taken  in?”  ‘‘I  belong  to  a party 
which  can  triumph  no  more,  for  we  have 
nothing  left  on  our  side  except  the  constitu- 
encies which  we  have  not  betrayed.”  He 
denounced  Peel  as  “ a man  who  never  origi- 
nates an  idea  ; a watcher  of  the  atmosphere  ; 
a man  who  takes  his  observations,  and  when 
he  finds  the  wind  in  a particular  quarter 
trims  his  sails  to  suit  it and  he  declared 
that  “ such  a man  may  be  a powerful  minis- 
ter, but  he  is  no  more  a great  statesman  than 
the  man  who  gets  up  behind  a carriage  is  a 
great  whip.” 

“ The  opportune,”  says  Mr.  Disraeli 
himself  in  his  “ Lord  George  Bentinck,”  11  in 
a popular  assembly  has  sometimes  more  suc- 
cess than  the  weightiest  efforts  of  research 
and  reason.”  He  is  alluding  to  this  very 
speech,  of  which  he  says,  with  perhaps  a 
superfluous  modesty,  that  “ it  was  the  long 
constrained  passion  of  the  House  that  now 
found  a vent  far  more  than  the  sallies  of  the 
speaker  that  changed  the  frigid  silence  of 
this  senate  into  excitement  and  tumult.” 
The  speech  was  indeed  opportune.  But  it 
was  opportune  in  a far  larger  sense  than  as  a 
timely  philippic  rattling  up  an  exhausted  and 
disappointed  House.  That  moment  when 
Disraeli  rose  was  the  very  turning  point  of 
the  fortunes  of  his  party.  There  was  genius, 
there  was  positive  statesmanship  in  seizing 
so  boldly  and  so  adroitly  on  the  moment.  It 
would  have  been  a great  thing  gained  for 
Peel  if  he  could  have  got  through  that  first 
night  without  any  alarm  note  of  opposition 
from  his  own  side.  The  habits  of  Parlia- 
mentary discipline  are  very  clinging.  They 
are  hard  to  tear  away.  Every  impulse  of 
association  and  training  protests  against  the 
very  effort  to  rend  them  asunder.  A once 
powerful  minister  exercises  a control  over  his 
long  obedient  followers  somewhat  like  that 
of  the  heart  of  the  Bruce  in  the  fine  old  Scot- 
tish story.  Those  who  once  followed  will 
still  obey  the  name  and  the  symbol  even 
when  the  actual  power  to  lead  is  gone  for- 
ever. If  one  other  night’s  habitude  had  been 
added  to  the  long  discipline  that  bound  his 
party  to  Peel ; if  they  had  allowed  them- 
selves to  listen  to  that  declaration  of  the  ses- 
sion’s first  night  without  murmur,  perhaps 
they  might  never  have  rebelled.  Mr.  Dis- 
raeli drew  together  into  one  focus  all  the 
rays  of  their  gathering  anger  against  Peel, 
and  made  them  light  into  a flame.  He  show- 
ed the  genius  of  the  born  leader  by  stepping 
forth  at  the  critical  moment  and  giving  the 
word  of  command. 

From  that  hour  Mr.  Disraeli  was  the  real 
leader  of  the  Tory  squires  ; from  that  moment 
his  voice  gave  the  word  of  command  to  the 
Tory  party.  There  was  peculiar  courage  too 
in  the  part  he  took.  He  must  have  known 
that  he  was  open  to  one  retort  from  Peel  that 
might  have  crushed  a less  confident  man.  It 
was  well  known  that  when  Peel  was  coming 
into  power  Disraeli  expected  to  be  offered  a 
place  of  some  kind  in  the  Ministry,  and 
would  have  accepted  it.  Mr.  Disraeli  after- 
wards explained,  when  Peel  made  allusion  to 
the  fact,  that  he  never  had  put  himself 
directly  forward  as  a candidate  for  office  ; 
but  there  had  undoubtedly  been  some  negoti- 
ation going  forward  which  was  conducted 
on  Mr.  Disraeli’s  side  by  some  one  who  sup- 
posed he  was  doing  what  Disraeli  would  like 
to  have  done  ; and  Peel  had  not  taken  any 
hint,  and  would  not  in  any  way  avail  himself 
of  Disraeli’s  services.  Disraeli  must  have 
known  that  when  he  attacked  Peel,  the  latter 
would  hardly  fail  to  make  use  of  this  obvi- 
ous retort ; but  he  felt  little  daunted  on  that 
score.  He  could  have  made  a fair  enough 
defence  of  his  consistency  in  any  case,  but  he 
knew  very  well  that  what  the  indignant 
Tories  wanted  just  then  was  not  a man  who 
had  been  uniformly  consistent,  but  one  who 
could  attack  Sir  Robert  Peel  without  scruple 


54 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


and  with  effect.  Disraeli  made  his  own 
career  by  the  course  he  took  on  that  memora- 
ble night,  and  he  also  made  a new  career  for 
the  Tory  party. 

Now  that  he  had  proved  himself  so  bril- 
liant a spadassin  in  this  debate,  men  began  to 
remember  that  he  had  dealt  trenchant  blows 
before.  Many  of  his  sentences  attacking 
Peel,  which  have  passed  into  familiar  quota- 
tion almost  like  proverbs,  were  spoken  in 
1845.  He  had  accused  the  great  minister  of 
having  borrowed  his  tactics  from  the  Whigs. 
“ The  right  honorable  gentleman  caught  the 
Whigs  bathing,  and  he  walked  away  with 
their  clothes.  He  has  left  them  in  the  full 
enjoyment  of  their  liberal  position,  and  he  is 
himself  a strict  conservative  of  their  gar- 
ments.” “I  look  on  the  right  honorable 
gentleman  as  a man  who  has  tamed  the  shrew 
of  Liberalism  by  her  own  tactics.  He  is  the 
political  Petruchio  who  has  outbid  you  all.” 
“ If  the  right  honorable  gentleman  would 
only  stick  to  quotation  instead  of  having  re- 
course to  obloquy,  he  may  rely  upon  it  he 
would  find  it  a safer  weapon.  It  is  one  he 
always  wields  with  the  hand  of  a master, 
and  when  he  does  appeal  to  any  authority  in 
prose  or  verse,  he  is  sure  to  be  successful, 
partly  because  he  seldom  quotes  a passage  that 
has  not  already  received  the  meed  of  Parlia- 
mentary approbation.  ” We  can  all  readily 
understand  how  such  a hit  as  the  last  would 
tell  in  the  case  of  an  orator  like  Peel,  who 
had  the  old-fashioned  way  of  introducing 
long  quotations  from  approved  classic  au- 
thors into  his  speeches,  and  who  not  unfre- 
quently  introduced  citations  which  were  re- 
ceived with  all  the  better  welcome  by  the 
House  because  of  the  familiarity  of  their 
language.  More  fierce  and  cutting  was  the 
reference  to  Canning,  with  whom  Peel  had 
quarrelled,  and  the  implied  contrast  of  Can- 
ning with  Peel.  Sir  Robert  had  cited  against 
Disraeli  Canning’s  famous  lines  praying  to 
be  saved  from  a “ candid  friend.”  Disraeli 
seized  the  opportunity  thus  given.  “ The 
name  of  Canning  is  one,”  he  said,  “ never  to 
be  mentioned,  I am  sure,  in  this  House 
without  emotion.  We  all  admire  his  genius  ; 
we  all,  or  at  least  most  of  us,  deplore  his  un- 
timely end  ; and  we  all  sympathize  with  him 
in  his  severe  struggle  with  supreme  prej- 
udice and  sublime  mediocrity,  with  inveter- 
ate foes  and  with  candid  friends.”  The 
phrase  “ sublime  mediocrity”  had  a marvel- 
lous effect.  As  a hostile  description  of  Peel’s 
character  it  had  enough  of  seeming  truth 
about  it  to  tell  most  effectively  alike  on 
friends  and  enemies  of  the  great  leader.  A 
friend,  or  even  an  impartial  enemy,  would 
not  indeed  admit  that  it  accurately  described 
Peel’s  intellect  and  position  ; but  as  a stroke 
of  personal  satire  it  touched  nearly  enough 
the  characteristics  of  its  object  to  impress 
itself  at'  once  as  a master  hit  on  the  minds  of 
all  who  caught  its  instant  purpose.  The 
words  remained  in  use  long  after  the  contro- 
versy and  its  occasion  had  passed  away  ; and 
it  was  allowed  that  an  unfriendly  and  bitter 
critic  could  hardly  have  found  a phrase  more 
suited  to  its  ungenial  purpose  or  more  likely 
to  connect  itself  at  once  in  the  public  mind 
with  the  name  of  him  who  was  its  object. 
Mr.  Disraeli  did  not  in  fact  greatly  admire 
Canning.  He  has  left  a very  disparaging 
criticism  of  Canning  as  an  orator  in  one  of 
his  novels.  On  the  other  hand,  he  has  shown 
in  his  “ Life  of  Lord  George  Bentinck”  that 
he  could  do  full  justice  to  some  of  the  great- 
est qualities  of  Sir  Robert  Peel.  But  at  the 
moment  of  his  attacking  Peel  and  crying  up 
Canning  he  was  only  concerned  to  disparage 
the  one,  and  it  was  on  this  account  that  he 
eulogized  the  other.  The  famous  sentence 
too  in  which  he  declared  that  a Conservative 
Government  was  an  “ organized  hypocrisy,” 
was  spoken  during  the  debates  of  the  session 
of  1845,  before  the  explanation  of  the  Minis- 
ter on  the  subject  of  Free  Trade.  All  these 
brilliant  things  men  now  began  to  recall. 
Looking  back  from  this  distance  of  time,  we 


can  see  well  enough  that  Mr.  Disraeli  had 
displayed  his  peculiar  genius  long  before  the 
House  of  Commons  took  the  pains  to  recog- 
nize it.  From  the  night  of  the  opening  of 
the  session  of  1846  it  was  never  questioned. 
Thenceforward  he  was  really  the  mouthpiece 
and  the  sense-carrier  of  his  party.  For  some 
time  to  come  indeed  his  nominal  post  might 
have  seemed  to  be  only  that  of  its  bravo. 
The  country  gentlemen  who  cheered  to  the 
echo  his  fierce  attacks  on  Peel  during  the 
debates  of  the  session  of  1846,  had  probably 
not  the  slightest  supicion  that  the  daring  rhet- 
orician who  was  so  savagely  revenging  them 
on  their  now  hated  leader  was  a man  of  as 
cool  a judgment,  as  long  a head,  and  as  com- 
plete a capacity  for  the  control  of  a party  as 
any  politician  who  for  generations  had  ap- 
peared in  the  House  of  Commons. 

One  immediate  effect  of  the  turn  thus  given 
by  Disraeli’s  timely  intervention  in  the  de- 
bate was  the  formation  of  a Protection  party 
in  the  House  of  Commons.  The  leadership 
of  this  perilous  adventure  was  entrusted  to 
Lord  George  Bentinck,  a sporting  nobleman 
of  energetic  character,  great  tenacity  of  pur- 
pose and  conviction,  and  a not  inconsiderable 
aptitude  for  politics  which  had  hitherto  had 
no  opportunity  for  either  exercising  or  dis- 
playing itself.  Lord  George  Bentinck  had 
sat  in  eight  Parliaments  without  taking  part 
in  any  great  debate.  When  he  was  suddenly 
drawn  into  the  leadership  of  the  Protection 
party  in  the  House  of  Commons,  he  gave 
himself  up  to  it  entirely.  He  had  at  first 
only  joined  the  party  as  one  of  its  organizers  ; 
but  he  showed  himself  in  many  respects  well 
fitted  for  the  leadership,  and  the  choice  of 
leaders  was  in  any  case  very  limited.  Once 
he  had  accepted  the  position,  he  was  un- 
wearying in  his  attention  to  its  duties  ; and 
indeed  up  to  the  moment  of  his  sudden  and 
premature  death  he  never  allowed  himself 
any  relaxation  from  the  cares  it  imposed  on 
him.  Mr.  Disraeli,  in  his  “ Life  of  Lord 
George  Bentinck,”  has  indeed  overrated, 
with  the  pardonable  extravagance  of  friend- 
ship, the  intellectual  gifts  of  his  leader. 
Bentinck ’s  abilities  were  hardly  even  of  the 
second  class  ; and  the  amount  of  knowledge 
which  he  brought  to  bear  on  the  questions  he 
discussed  with  so  much  earnestness  and 
energy  was  often  and  of  necessity  little  bet- 
ter than  mere  cram.  But  in  Parliament  the 
essential  qualities  of  a leader  are  not  great 
powers  of  intellect.  A man  of  cool  head, 
good  temper,  firm  will,  and  capacity  for  ap- 
preciating the  servicable  qualities  of  other 
men,  may,  always  provided  that  he  has  high 
birth  and  great  social  influence,  make  a very 
successful  leader,  even  though  he  be  wanting 
altogether  in  the  higher  attributes  of  elo- 
quence and  statesmanship.  It  may  be  doubted 
whether  on  the  whole  great  eloquence  and 
genius  are  necessary  at  all  to  the  leader  of  a 
party  in  Parliament  in  times  not  specially 
troublous.  Bentinck  had  patience,  energy, 
good  humor,  and  considerable  appreciation 
of  the  characters  of  men.  If  he  had  a bad 
voice,  was  a poor  speaker,  talked  absolute 
nonsense  about  protective  duties  and  sugar 
and  guano,  and  made  up  absurd  calculations 
to  prove  impossibilities  and  paradoxes,  he  at 
least  always  spoke  in  full  faith,  and  was  only 
the  more  necessary  to  his  party  because  he 
could  honestly  continue  to  believe  in  the  old 
doctrines,  no  matter  what  political  economy 
and  hard  facts  might  say  to  the  contrary. 

The  secession  was,  therefore,  in  full  course 
of  organization.  On  January  27th  Sir  Robert 
Peel  came  forward  to  explain  his  financial 
policy.  It  is  almost  superfluous  to  say  that 
the  most  intense  anxiety  prevailed  all  over 
the  country,  and  that  the  House  was  crowd- 
ed. An  incident  of  the  night,  which  then 
created  a profound  sensation,  would  not  be 
worth  noticing  now  but  for  the  evidence  it 
gives  of  the  bitterness  with  which  the  Pro- 
tection party  were  filled,  and  of  the  curiously 
bad  taste  of  which  gentlemen  of  position  and 
education  can  be  guilty  under  the  inspiration 


of  a blind  fanaticism.  There  is  something 
ludicrous  in  the  pompous  tone,  as  of 
righteous  indignation  deliberately  repressed, 
with  which  Mr.  Disraeli,  in  his  “ Life  of 
Bentinck,”  announces  the  event.  The  pro- 
ceedings in  the  House  of  Commons,  he 
says,  ‘‘were  ushered  in  by  a startling 
occurrence.”  What  was  this  portentous 
preliminary?  ‘‘His  Royal  Highness  the 
Prince  Consort,  attended  by  the  Master  of 
the  Horse,  appeared  and  took  his  seat  in  the 
body  of  the  House  to  listen  to  the  statement 
of  the  First  Minister.”  In  other  words, 
there  was  to  be  a statement  of  great  impor- 
tance and  a debate  of  profound  interest,  and 
the  husband  of  the  Queen  was  anxious  to  be 
a listeuer.  The  Prince  Consort  did  not 
understand  that  because  he  had  married  the 
Queen  he  was  therefore  to  be  precluded  from 
hearing  a discussion  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. The  poorest  man  and  the  greatest 
man  in  the  land  were  alike  free  to  occupy  a 
seat  in  one  of  the  galleries  of  the  House,  and 
it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  if  the  Prince  Con- 
sort fancied  that  he  too  might  listen  to  a de- 
bate without  unhinging  the  British  Constitu- 
tion. Lord  George  Bentinck  and  the  Pro- 
tectionists were  aflame  with  indignation. 
They  saw  in  the  quiet  presence  of  the  intelli- 
gent gentleman  who  came  to  listen  to  the  dis- 
cussion an  attempt  to  overawe  the  Commons 
and  compel  them  to  bend  to  the  will  of  the 
Crown.  It  is  not  easy  to  read  without  a feel- 
ing of  shame  the  absurd  and  unseemly  com- 
ments which  were  made  upon  this  harmless 
incident.  The  Queen  herself  has  given  an 
explanation  of  the  Prince’s  visit  which  is 
straightforward  and  dignified.  “ The  Prince 
merely  went,  as  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  the 
Queen’s  other  sons  do,  for  once,  to  hear  a 
fine  debate,  which  is  so  useful  to  all  princes.” 
“ But  this,”  the  Queen  adds,  “ he  naturally 
felt  unable  to  do  again.” 

The  Prime  Minister  announced  his  policy. 
His  object  was  to  abandon  the  sliding  scale 
altogether  ; but  for  the  present  he  intended 
to  impose  a duty  of  ten  shillings  a quarter 
on  corn  when  the  price  of  it  was  under  forty- 
eight  shillings  a quarter  ; to  reduce  that  duty 
by  one  shilling  for  every  shiling  of  rise  in 
price  until  it  reached  fifty- three  shillings  a 
quarter,  when  the  duty  should  fall  to  four 
shillings.  This  arrangement  was,  however, 
only  to  hold  good  for  three  years,  at  the  end 
of  which  time  protective  duties  on  grain  were 
to  be  wholly  abandoned.  Peel  explained  that 
he  intended  gradually  to  apply  the  principle 
of  Free  Trade  to  manufactures  and  every  de 
scription  of  produce,  bearing  in  mind  the  ne- 
cessity of  providing  for  the  expenditure  of 
the  country,  and  of  smoothing  away  some  of 
the  difficulties  which  a sudden  withdrawal  of 
protection  might  cause.  The  differential 
duties  on  sugar,  which  were  professedly  in- 
tended to  protect  the  growers  of  free  sugars 
against  the  competition  of  those  who  culti- 
vated sugar  by  the  use  of  slave  labor,  were 
to  be  diminished,  but  not  abolished.  The 
duties  on  the  importation  of  foreign  cattle 
were  to  be  at  once  removed.  In  order  to 
compensate  the  agricultural  interests  for  the 
gradual  withdrawal  of  protective  duties, 
there  were  to  be  some  readjustments  of  local 
burdens.  We  need  not  dwell  much  on  this 
part  of  the  explanation.  We  are  familiar  in 
late  years  with  the  ingenious  manner  in 
which  the  principle  of  the  readjustment  of 
local  burdens  is  worked  in  the  hope  of  con- 
ciliating the  agricultural  interests.  These  re- 
adjustments are  not  usually  received  with 
any  great  gratitude  or  attended  by  any  par- 
ticular success.  In  this  instance  Sir  Robert 
Peel  could  hardly  have  laid  much  serious 
stress  on  them.  If  the  landowners  and  farm- 
ers had  really  any  just  ground  of  complaint 
in  the  abolition  of  protection,  the  salve  which 
was  applied  to  their  wound  would  scarcely 
have  caused  them  to  forget  its  pains.  The 
important  part  of  the  explanation,  so  far  as 
history  is  concerned,  consisted  in  the  fact 
that  Peel  proclaimed  himself  an  absolute  con- 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


55 


vert  to  the  Free  Trade  principle,  and  that  the 
introduction  of  the  principle  into  all  depart- 
ments of  our  commercial  legislation  was,  ac- 
cording to  his  intention,  to  be  a mere  ques- 
tion of  time  and  convenience.  The  struggle 
was  to  be  between  Protection  and  Free 
Trade. 

Not  that  the  proposals  of  the  Ministry 
•wholly  satisfied  the  professed  Free  Traders. 
These  latter  would  have  enforced,  if  they 
could,  an  immediate  application  of  the  prin- 
ciple without  the  interval  of  three  years,  and 
the  devices  and  shifts  which  were  to  he  put 
in  operation  during  that  middle  time.  But 
of  course  although  they  pressed  their  protest 
in  the  form  of  an  amendment,  they  had  no 
idea  of  not  taking  what  they  could  get  when 
the  amendment  failed  to  secure  the  approval 
of  the  majority.  The  Protectionist  amend- 
ment amounted  to  a distinct  proposal  that 
the  policy  of  the  Government  be  absolutely 
rejected  by  the  House.  The  debate  lasted 
for  twelve  nights,  and  at  the  end  the  Protec- 
tionists had  240  votes  against  337  given  on 
behalf  of  the  policy  of  the  Government. 
The  majority  of  97  was  not  quite  so  large  as 
the  Government  had  anticipated  ; and  the  re- 
sult was  to  encourage  the  Protectionists  in 
their  plans  of  opposition.  The  opportunities 
of  obstruction  were  many.  The  majority 
just  mentioned  was  merely  in  favor  of  going 
into  committee  of  the  whole  house  to  con- 
sider the  existing  Customs  and  Corn  Acts  ; 
hut  every  single  financial  scheme  which  the 
minister  had  to  propose  must  be  introduced, 
debated  and  carried,  if  it  was  to  be  carried, 
as  a separate  bill.  We  shall  not  ask  our  read- 
ers to  follow  us  into  the  details  of  these  long- 
discussions.  They  were  not  important ; they 
were  often  not  dignified.  They  more  fre- 
quently concerned  themselves  about  the  con- 
duct and  personal  consistency  of  the  minister 
than  about  the  merits  of  his  policy.  The  ar- 
guments in  favor  of  Protection, which  doubt- 
less seemed  effective  to  the  country  gentle- 
men then,  seem  like  the  prattle  of  children 
now.  There  were,  indeed,  some  exciting 
passages  in  the  debates.  For  these  the 
House  was  mainly  indebted  to  the  rhetoric  of 
Mr.  Disraeli.  That  indefatigable  and  some- 
what reckless  champion  occupied  himself 
with  incessant  attacks  on  the  Prime  Minister. 
He  described  Peel  as  “ a trader  on  other  peo- 
ple’s intelligence  ; a political  burglar  of  other 
men’s  ideas.”  “ The  occupants  of  the 
Treasury  bench,”  he  said,  were  “political 
pedlars,  who  had  bought  their  party  in  the 
cheapest  market  and  sold  it  in  the  dearest.” 
This  was  strong  language.  But  it  was  after 
all  more  justifiable  than  the  attempt  Mr.  Dis- 
raeli made  to  revive  an  old  and  bitter  con- 
troversy between  Sir  Robert  Peel  and  Mr. 
Cobden,  which  for  the  sake  of  the  former 
had  better  have  been  forgotten.  Three  years 
before,  Mr.  Edward  Drummond,  private  sec- 
retary of  Sir  Robert  Peel,  was  shot  by  an  as- 
sassiif.  There  could  be  no  doubt  that  the 
victim  had  been  mistaken  for  the  Prime  Min- 
ister himself.  The  assassin  turned  out  to  be  a 
lunatic,  and  as  such  was  found  not  guilty  of 
the  murder,  and  was  consigned  to  a lunatic 
asylum.  The  event  naturally  had  a profound 
effect  on  Sir  Robert  Peel,  and  during  one  of 
the  debates  on  Free  Trade  Mr.  Cohden  hap- 
pening to  say  that,  he  would  hold  the  Prime 
Minister  responsible  for  the  condition  of  the 
country,  Peel,  in  an  extraordinary  burst  of 
excitement,  interpreted  the  words  as  a threat 
to  expose  him  to  the  attack  of  an  assassin. 
Nothing  could  be  more  painfully  absurd  ; 
and  nothing  could  better  show  the  unreason- 
ing and  discreditable  hatred  of  the  Tories  at 
that  time  for  any  one  who  opposed  the  policy 
of  Peel  than  the  fact  that  they  actually 
cheered  their  leader  again  and  again  when 
he  made  this  passionate  and  half-frenzied 
charge  on  one  of  the  purest  and  noblest  men 
who  ever  sat  in  the  English  Parliament. 
Peel  soon  recovered  his  senses.  He  saw  the 
error  of  which  he  had  been  guilty,  and  re- 
gretted it ; and  it  ought  to  have  been  con- 


I signed  to  forgetfulness  ; but  Mr.  Disraeli,  in 
repelling  a charge  made  against  him  of  in- 
dulging in  unjustifiable  personalities,  revived 
the  whole  story,  and  reminded  the  House  of 
Commons  that  the  Prime  Minister  had 
charged  the  leader  of  the  Free  Trade  League 
with  inciting  assassins  to  murder  him.  This 
unj  ustifiable  attempt  to  rekindle  an  old  quar- 
rel had,  however,  no  other  effect  than  to 
draw  from  Sir  Robert  Peel  a renewed  ex- 
pression of  apology  for  the  charge  he  had 
made  against  Mr.  Cobden,  “ in  the  course  of 
a heated  debate,  when  I put  an  erroneous 
construction  on  some  expressions  used  by  the 
lion,  member  for  Stockport.”  Mr.  Cobden 
declared  that  the  explanation  made  by  Peel 
was  entirely  satisfactory,  and  expressed  his 
hope  that  no  one  on  either  side  of  the  House 
would  attempt  to  revive  the  subject  or  make 
further  allusion  to  it. 

The  Government  prevailed.  It  would  be 
superfluous  to  go  into  any  details  as  to  the 
progress  of  the  Corn  Bill.  Enough  to  say 
that  the  third  reading  of  the  bill  passed  the 
House  of  Commons  on  May  15,  by  a major- 
ity of  98  votes.  The  bill  was  at  once  sent 
up  to  the  House  of  Lords,  and,  by  means 
chiefly  of  the  earnest  advice  of  the  Duke  of 
Wellington,  was  carried  through  that  House 
without  much  serious  opposition.  But  June 
25,  the  day  when  the  bill  was  read  for  a third 
time  in  the  House  of  Lords,  was  a memorable 
day  in  the  Parliamentary  annals  of  England. 
It  saw  the  fall  of  the  Ministry  who  had  carried 
to  success  the  greatest  piece  of  legislation 
that  had  been  introduced  since  Lord  Grey’s 
Reform  Bill. 

A Coercion  Bill  for  Ireland  was  the  measure 
which  brought  this  catastrophe  on  the  Gov- 
ernment of  Sir  Robert  Peel.  While  the  Corn 
Bill  was  yet  passing  through  the  House  of 
Commons  the  Government  felt  called  upon, 
in  consequence  of  the  condition  of  crime  and 
outrage  in  Ireland,  to  introduce  a Coercion 
Bill.  Lord  George  Bentinck  at  first  gave  the 
measure  his  support ; but  during  the  Whit- 
suntide recess  he  changed  his  views.  He 
now  declared  that  he  had  only  supported  the 
bill  on  the  assurance  of  the  Government  that 
it  was  absolutely  necessary  for  the  safety  of 
life  in  Ireland,  and  that  as  the  Government 
had  not  pressed  it  on  in  advance  of  every 
other  measure — especially  no  doubt  of  the 
Corn  Bill — he  could  not  believe  that  it  was 
really  a matter  of  imminent  necessity  ; and 
that  furthermore  he  had  no  longer  any  confi- 
dence in  the  Government,  and  could  not  trust 
them  with  extraordinary  powers.  In  truth 
the  bill  was  placing  the  Government  in  a se- 
rious difficulty.  All  the  Irish  followers  of 
O’Connell  would  of  course  oppose  the  coer- 
cion measure.  The  Whigs  when  out  of  office 
have  usually  made  it  a rule  to  oppose  coer- 
cion bills  if  they  do  not  come  accompanied 
with  some  promises  of  legislative  reform  and 
concession.  The  English  Radical  members, 
Mr.  Cobden  and  his  followers,  were  almost 
sure  to  oppose  it.  Under  these  circumstan- 
ces, it  seemed  probable  enough  that  if  the 
Protectionists  joined  with  the  other  oppo- 
nents of  the  Coercion  Bill,  the  Government 
must  be  defeated.  The  temptation  was  too 
great.  As  Mr.  Disraeli  himself  candidly  says 
of  his  party,  “ Vengeance  had  succeeded  in 
most  breasts  to  the  more  sanguine  sentiment. 
The  field  was  lost,  but  at  any  rate  there 
should  be  retribution  for  those  who  had  betray- 
ed it.  ” The  question  with  many  of  the  indig- 
nant Protectionists  was,  as  Mr.  Disraeli  him- 
self puts  it,  “ How  was  Sir  Robert  Peel  to  be 
turned  out  ?’  ’ It  soon  became  evident  that  he 
could  be  turned  out  by  those  who  detested  him 
and  longed  for  vengeance  voting  against  him 
on  the  Coercion  Bill.  This  was  done.  The 
fiercer  Protectionists  voted  with  the  Free 
Traders,  the  Whigs,  and  the  Irish  Catholic 
and  Liberal  members,  and,  after  a debate  of 
much  bitterness  and  passion,  the  division  on 
the  second  reading  of  the  Coercion  Bill  took 
place  on  Thursday,  June  25,  and  the  Minis- 
try were  left  in  a minority  of  73.  Two  hun- 


[(UTRSIT 


| dred  and  nineteen  votes  only  were  given  for 
the  second  reading  of  the  bill,  and  292  against 
it.  Some  eighty  of  the  Protectionists  fol- 
lowed Lord  George  Bentinck  into  the  lobby 
to  vote  against  the  bill,  and  their  votes  settled 
the  question.  Mr.  Disraeli  has  given  a some- 
what pompous  description  of  the  scene  “ as 
the  Protectionists  passed  in  defile  before  the 
minister  to  the  hostile  lobby.”  “Pallas  te 
hoc  vulnere,  Pallas  immolat,”  cries  the  hero 
of  the  H5neid,  as  he  plunges  his  sword  into 
the  heart  of  his  rival.  “ Protection  kills 
you  ; not  your  Coercion  Bill,”  the  irrecon- 
cilable Protectionists  might  have  said  as  they 
trooped  past  the  minister.  Chance  had  put 
within  their  grasp  the  means  of  vengeance, 
and  they  had  seized  it,  and  made  successful 
use  of  it.  The  Peel  Ministry  had  fallen  in 
its  very  hour  of  triumph. 

Three  days  after  Sir  Robert  Peel  announc- 
ed his  resignation  of  office.  His  speech 
“ was  considered  one  of  glorification  and 
pique,”  says  Mr.  Disraeli.  It  does  not  so 
impress  most  readers.  It  appears  to  have 
been  full  of  dignity,  and  of  emotion,  not 
usual  with  Peel,  but  not  surely  under  the  cir- 
cumstances incompatible  with  dignity.  It 
contained  that  often-quoted  tribute  to  the 
services  of  a former  opponent,  in  which  Peel 
declared  that  “ the  name  which  ought  to  be 
and  which  will  be  associated  with  the  suc- 
cess of  these  measures  is  the  name  of  the 
man  who,  acting,  I believe,  from  pure  and 
disinterested  motives,  has  advocated  their 
cause  with  untiring  energy  and  with  appeals 
to  reason  enforced  by  an  eloquence  the  more 
to  be  admired  because  it  is  unaffected  and 
unadorned — the  name  of  Richard  Cobden.  ’ ’ 
An  added  effect  was  given  to  this  well-de- 
served panegyric  by  the  little  irregularity 
which  the  Prime  Minister  committed  when 
he  mentioned  in  debate  a member  by  name. 
The  closing  sentence  of  the  speech  was  elo- 
quent and  touching.  Many  would  censure 
him,  Peel  said  ; his  name  would  perhaps  be 
execrated  by  the  monopolist  who  would 
maintain  protection  for  his  own  individual 
benefit  ; “ but  it  may  be  that  I shall  leave  a 
name  sometimes  remembered  with  expres- 
sions of  good  will  in  those  places  which  are 
the  abode  of  men  whose  lot  it  is  to  labor  and 
to  earn  their  daily  bread  by  the  sweat  of  their 
brow — a name  remembered  with  expressions 
of  good  will  when  they  shall  recreate  their 
exhausted  strength  with  abundant  and  un- 
taxed food,  the  sweeter  because  it  is  no  long- 
er leavened  with  a sense  of  injustice.” 

The  great  minister  fell.  So  great  a success 
followed  by  so  sudden  and  complete  a fall  is 
hardly  recorded  in  the  Parliamentary  history 
of  our  modern  times.  Peel  had  crushed 
O’Connell  and  carried  Free  Trade,  andO’Con- 
nell  and  the  Protectionists  had  life  enough 
yet  to  pull  him  down.  He  is  as  a conqueror 
who  having  won  the  great  victory  of  his  life 
is  struck  by  a hostile  hand  in  some  by-way 
as  he  passes  home  to  enjoy  his  triumph. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

FAMINE,  COMMERCIAL  TROUBLE,  AND  FOR- 
EIGN INTRIGUE. 

Lord  John  Russell  succeeded  Sir  Rob- 
ert Peel  as  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury  ; Lord 
Palmerston  became  Foreign  Secretary  ; Sir 
Charles  Wood  was  Chancellor  of  the  Excheq- 
uer ; Lord  Grey  took  charge  of  the  Colonies  ; 
and  Sir  George  Grey  was  Home  Secretary. 
Mr.  Macaulay  accepted  the  office  of  Paymas- 
ter-General, with  a seat  in  the  Cabinet,  a dis- 
tinction not  usually  given  to  the  occupant  of 
that  office.  The  Ministry  was  not  particu- 
larly strong  in  administrative  talent.  The 
Premier  and  the  Foreign  Secretary  were  the 
only  members  of  the  Cabinet  who  could  be 
called  statesmen  of  the  first  class  ; and  even 
Lord  Palmerston  had  not  as  yet  won  more 
than  a somewhat  doubtful  kind  of  fame,  and 
was  looked  upon  as  a man  quite  as  likely  to 
do  mischief  as  good  to  any  Ministry  of 
which  he  might  happen  to  form  a part.  Lord 
Grey  then  and  since  only  succeeded  some- 


56 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


how  in  missing  the  career  of  a leading  states- 
man. He  had  great  talents  and  some  origi- 
nality ; he  was  independent  and  bold.  But 
his  independence  degenerated  too  often  into 
impracticability  and  even  eccentricity  ; and 
he  was,  in  fact,  a politician  with  whom  or- 
dinary men  could  not  work.  Sir  Charles 
Wood,  the  new  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer, 
had  solid  sense  and  excellent  administrative 
capacity,  but  he  was  about  as  bad  a public 
speaker  as  ever  addressed  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. His  budget  speeches  were  often  made 
so  unintelligible  by  defective  manner  and  de- 
livery that  they  might  almost  as  well  have 
been  spoken  in  a foreign  language.  Sir 
George  Grey  was  a speaker  of  fearful  fluency, 
and  a respectable  administrator  of  the  second 
or  third  class.  He  was  as  plodding  in  ad- 
ministration as  he  was  precipitate  of  speech. 

“ Peel/’  wrote  Lord  Palmerston  to  a friend 
a short  time  after  the  formation  of  the  new 
Ministry,  “ seems  to  have  made  up  his  mind 
that  for  a year  or  two  he  cannot  hope  to  form 
a party,  and  that  he  must  give  people  a cer- 
tain time  to  forget  the  events  of  last  year  ; in 
the  meanwhile,  it  is  evident  that  he  does  not 
wish  that  any  other  Government  should  be 
formed  out  of  the  people  on  his  side  of  the 
House,  because  of  that  Government  he  would 
not  be  a member.  For  these  reasons,  and 
also  because  he  sincerely  thinks  it  best  that 
we  should,  for  the  present,  remain  in,  he 
gives  us  very  cordial  support,  as  far  as  he  can, 
without  losing  his  independent  position. 
Graham,  who  sits  up  under  his  old  pillar, 
and  never  comes  down  to  Peel’s  bench  even 
for  personal  communication,  seems  to  keep 
himself  aloof  from  everybody,  and  to  hold 
himself  free  to  act  according  to  circumstan- 
ces ; but  as  yet  he  is  not  considered  as  the 
head  of  any  party.  George  Bentinck  has  en- 
tirely broken  down  as  a candidate  for  minis- 
terial position  ; and  thus  we  are  left  masters 
of  the  field,  not  only  on  account  of  our  own 
merits,  which,  though  we  say  it  ourselves, 
are  great,  but  by  virtue  of  the  absence  of  any 
efficient  competitors.  ’ ’ Palmerston's  humor- 
ous estimate  of  the  state  of  affairs  was  ac- 
curate. The  new  Ministry  was  safe  enough, 
because  there  was  no  party  in  a condition  to 
compete  with  it. 

The  position  of  the  Government  of  Lord 
John  Russell  was  not  one  to  be  envied.  The 
Irish  famine  occupied  all  attention,  and  soon 
seemed  to  be  an  evil  too  great  for  any  Min- 
istry to  deal  with.  The  failure  of  the  potato 
was  an  overwhelming  disaster  for  a people 
almost  wholly  agricultural  and  a peasantry 
long  accustomed  to  live  upon  that  root  alone. 
Ireland  contains  very  few  large  towns  ; when 
the  names  of  four  or  five  are  mentioned  the 
list  is  done  with,  and  we  have  to  come  to 
mere  villages.  The  country  has  hardly  anj' 
manufactures  except  that  of  linen  in  the 
northern  province.  In  the  south  and  west 
the  people  live  by  agriculture  alone.  The 
cottier  system,  which  prevailed  almost  uni- 
versally in  three  of  the  four  provinces,  was 
an  arrangement  by  which  a man  obtained  in 
return  for  his  labor  a right  to  cultivate  a lit- 
tle patch  of  ground,  just  enough  to  supply 
him  with  food  for  the  scanty  maintenance  of 
his  family.  The  great  landlords  were  for  the 
most  part  absentees  ; the  smaller  landlords 
were  often  deeply  in  debt,  and  were  there 
fore  compelled  to  screw  every  possible  penny 
of  rent  out  of  their  tenants-at-will.  Thejr 
had  not,  however,  even  that  regularity  and 
order  in  their  exactions  that  might  at  least 
have  forced  upon  the  tenants  some  habits  of 
forethought  and  exactness.  There  was  a sort 
of  understanding  that  the  rent  was  always  to 
be  somewhat  in  arrear  ; the  supposed  kind- 
ness of  a landlord  consisted  in  his  allowing 
the  indebtedness  to  increase  more  liberally 
than  others  of  his  class  would  do.  There 
was  a demoralizing  slatternliness  in  the  whole 
system.  It  was  almost  certain  that  if  a ten- 
ant by  greatly  increased  industry  and  good 
fortune  made  the  land  which  he  held  more 
valuable  than  before,  his  rent  would  at  once 
be  increased.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  held 


an  act  of  tyranny  to  dispossess  him  so  long 
as  he  made  even  any  fair  promise  of  paying 
up.  There  was,  therefore,  a thoroughly  vi- 
cious system  established  all  round,  demoraliz- 
ing alike  to  the  landlord  and  the  tenant. 

Underlying  all  the  relations  of  landlord  and 
tenant  in  Ireland  were  two  great  facts.  The 
occupation  of  land  was  virtually  a necessity 
of  life  to  the  Irish  tenant.  That  is  the  first 
fact.  The  second  is  that  the  land  system  un- 
der which  Ireland  was  placed  was  one  en- 
tirely foreign  to  the  traditions,  the  ideas,  one 
might  say  the  very  genius  of  the  Irish  people. 
Whether  the  system  introduced  by  conquest 
and  confiscation  was  better  than  the  old  one 
or  not  does  not  in  the  slightest  degree  aflect 
the  working  of  this  fact  on  the  relations  be- 
tween the  landlord  and  the  tenant  in  Ireland. 
No  one  will  be  able  to  understand  the  whole 
meaning  and  bearing  of  the  long  land  strug- 
gle in  Ireland  who  does  not  clearly  get  into 
his  mind  the  fact  that,  rightly  or  wrongly, 
the  Irish  peasant  regarded  the  right  to  have 
a bit  of  land,  his  share,  exactly  as  other 
peoples  regard  the  right  to  live.  It  was  in 
his  mind  something  elementary  and  self-evi- 
dent. He  could  not  be  loyal  to,  he  could  not 
even  understand,  any  system  which  did  not 
secure  that  to  him.  According  to  Michelet 
the  land  is  the  French  peasant’s  mistress.  It 
was  the  Irish  peasant’s  life. 

The  Irish  peasant  with  his  wife  and  his 
family  lived  on  the  potato.  Hardly  in  any 
country  coming  within  the  pale  of  civiliza- 
tion was  there  to  be  found  a whole  peasant 
population  dependent  for  their  living  on  one 
single  root.  When  the  potato  failed  in  1845 
the  life-system  of  the  people  seemed  to  have 
given  way.  At  first  it  was  not  thought  that 
the  failure  must  necessarily  be  anything  more 
than  partial.  But  it  soon  began  to  appear 
that  for  at  least  two  seasons  the  whole  food 
of  the  peasant  population  and  of  the  poor  in 
towns  was  absolutely  gone.  Lord  John  Rus- 
sell’s Government  pottered  with  the  difficulty 
rather  than  encountered  it.  In  their  excuse 
it  has  to  be  said  of  course  that  the  calamity 
they  Imd  to  meet  was  unprecedented  and  that 
it  must  have  tried  the  resources  of  the  most 
energetic  and  foreseeing  statesmanship. 
Still  the  fact  remains  that  the  measures  of 
the  Government  were  at  first  utterly  inade- 
quate to  the  occasion,  and  that  afterwards 
some  of  them  were  even  calculated  to  make 
bad  worse.  Not  a county  in  Ireland  whol- 
ly escaped  the  potato  disease,  and  many 
of  the  southern  and  western  counties  were 
soon  in  actual  famine.  A peculiar  form  of 
fever — famine-fever  it  was  called — began  to 
show  itself  everywhere.  A terrible  dysen- 
tery set  in  as  well.  In  some  districts  the 
people  died  in  hundreds  daily  from  fever, 
dysentery,  or  sheer  starvation.  The  districts 
of  Skibbereen,  Skull,  Westport,  and  other 
places  obtained  a ghastly  supremacy  in 
misery.  In  some  of  these  districts  the  paro- 
chial authorities  at  last  declined  to  put  the 
rate-payers  to  the  expense  of  coffins  for  the 
too  frequent  dead.  The  coroners  declared  it 
impossible  to  keep  on  holding  inquests. 
There  was  no  time  for  all  the  ceremonies  of 
that  kind  that  would  have  to  be  gone  through 
if  they  made  any  pretence  at  keeping  up  the 
system  of  ordinary  seasons.  In  other  places 
where  the  formula  was  still  kept  up  the  ju- 
ries added  to  their  verdicts  of  death  by  starv- 
ation some  charge  of  wilful  murder  against 
Lord  John  Russell  or  the  Lord  Lieutenant  or 
some  other  official  whose  supposed  neglect 
was  set  down  as  the  cause  of  the  death. 
Unfortunately  the  Government  had  to  show 
an  immense  activity  in  the  introduction  of 
coercion  bills  and  other  repressive  measures. 
It  would  have  been  impossible  that  in  such  a 
country  as  Ireland  a famine  of  that  gigantic 
kind  should  set  in  without  bringing  crimes 
of  violence  along  with  it.  The  peasantry 
had  always  hated  the  land  tenure  system  ; 
they  had  always  been  told,  not  surely  with- 
out justice,  that  it  was  at  the  bottom  of  all 
their  miseries  ; they  were  now  under  the  firm 
conviction  that  the  Government  could  have 


saved  them  if  it  would.  What  wonder  then 
if  there  were  bread  riots  and  agrarian  disturb- 
ances ? Who  can  now  wonder,  that  being 
so,  that  the  Government  introduced  excep- 
tional measures  of  repression  ? But  it  cer- 
tainly had  a grim  and  a disheartening  effect 
on  the  spirits  of  the  Irish  people  when  it 
seemed  as  if  the  Government  could  only  pot- 
ter and  palter  with  famine,  but  could  be  ear- 
nest and  energetic  when  devising  coercion 
bills. 

Whatever  might  be  said  of  the  Govern- 
ment, no  one  could  doubt  the  good  will  of 
the  English  people.  In  every  great  English 
community  from  the  metropolis  downwards 
subscription  lists  were  opened  and  the  most 
liberal  contributions  poured  in.  In  Liver- 
pool, for  example,  a great  number  of  the 
merchants  of  the  place  put  down  a thousand 
pounds  each.  The  Quakers  of  England  sent 
over  a delegation  of  their  number  to  the 
specially  famine-stricken  districts  of  Ireland 
to  administer  relief.  Many  other  sects  and 
bodies  followed  the  example.  National  Re- 
lief Associations  were  specially  formed  in 
England.  Relief  indeed  began  to  be  poured 
in  from  all  countries.  The  United  States 
employed  some  of  their  war  vessels  to  send 
gifts  of  grain  and  other  food  to  the  starving 
places.  In  one  Irish  seaport  the  joy  bells  of 
the  town  were  kept  ringing  all  day  in  honor 
of  the  arrival  of  one  of  these  grain-laden  ves- 
sels— a mournfully  significant  form  of  rejoic- 
ing surely.  One  of  the  national  writers  said 
at  the  time  that  the  misery  of  Ireland  touched 
“ even  the  heart  of  the  Turk  at  the  far  Dar- 
danelles, and  he  sent  her  in  pity  the  alms  of 
a beggar.”  It  was  true  that  from  Turkey  as 
from  most  other  countries  had  come  some 
contribution  towards  the  relief  of  Irish  dis- 
tress. At  the  same  time  there  were  some 
very  foolish  performances  gone  through  in 
Dublin  under  the  sanction  and  patronage  of 
the  Lord  Lieutenant ; the  solemn  “ inaugu- 
ration,” as  it  would  be  called  by  a certain 
class  of  writers  now,  of  a public  soup  kitch- 
en, devised  and  managed  by  the  fashionable 
French  cook  M.  Soyer,  for  the  purpose  of 
showing  the  Irish  people  what  remarkably 
sustaining  potage  might  be  made  out  of  the 
thinnest  and  cheapest  materials.  This  expo- 
sition would  have  been  well  enough  in  a 
quiet  and  practical  way,  but  performed  as  a 
grand  national  ceremony  of  regeneration,  un- 
der the  patronage  of  the  Viceroy,  and  with 
accompaniment  of  brass-bands  and  pageantry, 
it  had  a remarkably  foolish  and  even  offen- 
sive aspect.  The  performance  was  resented 
bitterly  by , many  of  the  impatient  young 
spirits  of  the  national  party  in  Dublin. 

Meanwhile  the  misery  went  on  deepening 
and  broadening.  It  was  far  too  great  to  be 
effectually  encountered  by  subscriptions  how- 
ever generous  ; and  the  Government,  mean- 
ing to  do  the  best  they  could,  were  practically 
at  their  wits’  end.  The  starving  peasants 
streamed  into  the  nearest  considerable  ^own 
hoping  for  relief  there,  and  found  too  often 
that  there  the  very  sources  of  charity  were 
dried  up.  Many,  very  many,  thus  disap- 
pointed, merely  lay  down  on  the  pavement 
and  died  there.  Along  the  country  roads 
one  met  everywhere  groups  of  gaunt  dim- 
eyed wretches  clad  in  miserable  old  sacking 
and  wandering  aimlessly  with  some  vague 
idea  of  finding  food,  as  the  boy  in  the  fable 
hoped  to  find  the  gold,  where  the  rainbow 
touched  the  earth.  Many  remained  in  their 
empty  hovels  and  took  death  there  when  he 
came.  In  some  regions  the  country  seemed 
unpeopled  for  miles.  A fervid  national  writer 
declared  that  the  impression  made  on  him  by 
the  aspect  of  the  country  then  was  that  of 
“ one  silent  vast  dissolution.”  Allowing  for 
rhetoric,  there  was  not  much  exaggeration  in 
the  words.  Certainly  the  Ireland  of  tradition 
was  dissolved  in  the  operation  of  that  famine. 
The  old  system  gave  way  utterly.  The  land- 
lordism of  the  days  before  the  famine  never 
revived  in  its  former  strength  and  its  peculiar 
ways.  For  the  landlord  class  there  came  out 
of  the  famine  the  Encumbered  Estates  Court  ; 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


57 


for  the  small  farmer  and  peasant  class  there 
floated  up  the  American  emigrant  ship. 

Acts  and  even  conspiracies  of  violence,  as 
we  have  said,  began  to  be  not  uncommon 
throughout  the  country  and  in  the  cities. 
One  peculiar  symptom  of  the  time  was  the 
glass-breaking  mania  that  set  in  throughout 
the  towns  of  the  south  and  west.  It  is  per- 
haps not  quite  reasonable  to  call  it  a mania, 
for  it  had  melancholy  method  in  it.  The 
workhouses  were  overcrowded,  and  the 
authorities  could  not  receive  there  or  feed 
there  one  fourth  of  the  applicants  who  be- 
sieged them.  Suddenly  it  seemed  to  occur 
to  the  minds  of  many  of  famine’s  victims 
that  there  were  the  prisons  for  which  one 
might  qualify  himself,  and  to  which,  after 
qualification,  he  could  not  be  denied  admit- 
tance. The  idea  was  simple  : go  into  a town, 
smash  deliberately  the  windows  of  a shop, 
and  some  days  of  a jail  and  of  substantial 
food  must  follow.  The  plan  became  a favo- 
rite. Especially  was  it  adopted  by  young 
girls  and  women.  After  a time  the  puzzled 
magistrates  resolved  to  put  an  end  to  this  de- 
vice by  refusing  to  inflict  the  punishment 
which  these  unfortunate  creatures  sought  as 
a refuge  and  a comfort.  One  early  result  of 
the  famine  and  the  general  breakdown  of 
property  is  too  significant  to  be  allowed  to 
pass  unnoticed.  Some  of  the  landlords  had 
been  living  for  a long  time  on  a baseless  sys- 
tem, on  a credit  which  the  failure  of  the 
crops  brought  to  a crushing  test.  Not  a few 
of  these  were  utterly  broken.  They  could 
maintain  their  houses  and  halls  no  longer, 
and  often  were  only  too  happy  to  let  them  to 
the  poor  law  guardians  to  be  used  as  extra 
workhouses,  in  the  near  neighborhood  of 
many  a distressed  country  town  the  great 
house  of  the  local  magnate  thus  became  a re- 
ceptacle for  the  pauperism  which  could  not 
find  a refuge  in  the  overcrowded  asylums 
which  the  poor  law  system  had  already  pro- 
vided. The  lion  and  the  lizard,  says  the 
Persian  poet,  keep  tne  halls  where  Jamshyd 
gloried  and  drank  deep.  The  pauper  de- 
voured his  scanty  dole  of  Indian  meal  por- 
ridge in  the  hall  where  his  landlord  had  glo- 
ried and  drunk  deep. 

When  the  famine  was  over  and  its  results 
came  to  be  estimated,  it  was  found  that  Ire- 
land had  lost  about  two  millions  of  her  pop- 
ulation. She  had  come  down  from  eight 
millions  to  six.  This  was  the  combined 
effect  of  starvation,  of  the  various  diseases 
that  followed  in  its  path  gleaning  where  it 
had  failed  to  gather,  and  of  emigration. 
Long  after  all  the  direct  effects  of  the  failure 
of  the  potato  had  ceased,  the  population  still 
continued  steadily  to  decrease.  The  Irish 
peasant  had  in  fact  had  his  eyes  turned,  as 
Mr.  Bright  afterwards  expressed  it,  towards 
the  setting  sun,  and  for  long  years  the  stream 
of  emigration  westward  never  abated  in 
its  volume.  A new  Ireland  began  to  grow  up 
across  the  Atlantic.  In  every  great  city  of 
the  United  States  the  Irish  element  began  to 
form  a considerable  constitutent  of  the  pop- 
ulation. From  New  York  to  San  Francisco, 
from  St.  Paul,  Minnesota,  to  New  Orleans, 
the  Irish  accent  is  heard  in  every  street,  and 
the  Irish  voter  comes  to  the  polling-booth 
ready,  far  too  heedlessly,  to  vote  for  any  pol- 
itician who  will  tell  him  that  America  loves 
the  green  flag  and  hates  the  Saxon. 

Terrible  as  the  immediate  effects  of  the 
famine  were,  it  is  impossible  for  any  friend 
of  Ireland  to  say  that  on  the  whole  it  did  not 
bring  much  good  with  it.  It  first  applied  the 
scourge  which  was  to  drive  out  of  the  land  a 
thoroughly  vicious  and  rotten  system.  It  first 
called  the  attention  of  English  statesmen 
irresistibly  to  the  fact  that  the  system  was 
bad  to  its  heart’s  core,  and  that  nothing  good 
could  come  of  it.  It  roused  the  attention  of 
the  humble  Irishman,  too  often  inclined  to 
put  up  with  everything  in  the  lazy  spirit  of  a 
Neapolitan  or  a fatalist,  to  the  fact  that  there 
was  for  him  too  a world  elsewhere.  The 
famine  had  indeed  many  a bloody  after 
birth  ; but  it  gave  to  the  world  a new  Ireland. 


I The  Government,  as  it  may  be  supposed, 
had  hard  work  to  do  all  this  time.  They 
had  the  best  intentions  towards  Ireland, 
and  were  always  indeed  announcing  that  they 
had  found  out  some  new  way  of  dealing  with 
the  distress,  and  modifying  or  withdrawing 
old  plans.  They  adopted  measures  from 
time  to  time  to  expend  large  sums  in  some- 
thing like  systematic  employment  for  the 
poor  in  Ireland  ; they  modified  the  Irish 
Poor  Laws  ; they  agreed  at  length  to  suspend 
temporarily  the  Corn  Laws  and  the  Naviga- 
tion Laws,  so  far  as  these  related  to  the  im- 
portation of  grain.  A tremendous  commer- 
cial panic,  causing  the  fall  of  great  houses, 
especially  in  the  com  trade,  all  over  the 
country,  called  for  the  suspension  of  the 
Bank  Charter  Act  of  1844,  and  the  measures 
of  the  ministers  were  for  the  most  part  treat- 
ed considerately  and  loyally  by  Sir  Robert 
Peel ; but  a new  opposition  had  formed  it- 
self under  the  nominal  guidance  of  Lord 
George  Beutinck,  and  the  real  inspiration  of 
Mr.  Disraeli.  Lord  George  Bentinck  brought 
in  a bill  to  make  a grant  of  sixteen  millions 
to  be  expended  as  an  advance  on  the  con- 
struction and  completion  of  Irish  railways. 
This  proposal  was  naturally  very  welcome  to 
many  in  Ireland.  It  had  a lavish  and  showy 
air  about  it ; and  Lord  George  Bentinck 
talked  grandiosely  in  his  speech  about  the 
readiness  with  which  he,  the  Saxon,  would, 
if  his  measure  were  carried,  answer  with 
his  head  for  the  loyalty  of  the  Irish  people. 
But  it  soon  began  to  appear  that  the  scheme 
was  not  so  much  a question  of  the  Irish 
people  as  of  certain  moneyed  classes  who 
might  be  helped  along  at  the  expense  of  the 
English  and  the  Irish  people.  Lord  George 
Bentinck  certainly  had  no  other  than  a direct 
and  single-minded  purpose  to  do  good  to  Ire- 
land ; but  his  measure  would  have  been  a 
failure  if  it  had  been  carried.  It  was  fairly 
open  in  some  respects  to  the  criticism  of  Mr. 
Roebuck  that  it  proposed  to  relieve  Irish 
landlordism  of  its  responsibilities  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  British  tax-payer.  The  measure 
was  rejected.  Lord  George  Bentinck  was 
able  to  worry  the  Ministry  somewhat  effect- 
ively when  they  introduced  a measure  to  re- 
duce gradually  the  differential  duties  on 
sugar  for  a few  years,  and  then  replace  these 
duties  by  a fixed  and  uniform  rate.  This 
was  in  short  a proposal  to  apply  the  principle 
of  Free  Trade,  instead  of  that  of  Protection, 
to  sugar.  The  protective  principle  had,  in 
this  case,  however,  a certain  fascination 
about  it,  even  for  independent  minds  ; for 
an  exceptional  protection  had  been  retained 
by  Sir  Robert  Peel  in  order  to  enable  the 
planters  in  our  colonies  to  compensate  them- 
selves for  the  loss  they  might  suffer  in  the 
transition  from  slavery  to  free  labor.  Lord 
George  Bentinck  therefore  proposed  an 
amendment  to  the  resolutions  of  the  Govern- 
ment, declaring  it  unjust  and  impolitic  to  re- 
duce the  duty  on  foreign  slave-grown  sugar, 
as  tending  to  check  the  advance  of  production 
by  British  free  labor,  and  to  give  a great  ad- 
ditional stimulus  to  slave  labor.  Many  sin- 
cere and  independent  opponents  of  slavery, 
Lord  Brougham  in  the  House  of  Lords 
among  them,  were  caught  by  this  view  of 
the  question.  Lord  George  and  his  brilliant 
lieutenant  at  one  time  appeared  as  if  they 
were  likely  to  carry  their  point  in  the  Com- 
mons. But  it  was  announced  that  if  the  res- 
olutions of  the  Government  were  defeated 
ministers  would  resign,  and  there  was  no  one 
to  take  their  place.  Peel  could  not  return  to 
power  ; and  the  time  was  far  distant  yet 
when  Mr.  Disraeli  could  form  a Ministry. 
The  opposition  crumbled  away  therefore, 
and  the  Government  measures  were  carried. 
Lord  George  Bentinck  made  himself  for  a 
while  the  champion  of  the  West  India  sugar- 
producing  interest.  He  was  a man  who 
threw  himself  with  enormous  energy  into  any 
work  he  undertook  ; and  he  had  got  up  the 
case  of  the  West  India  planters  with  all  the 
enthusiasm  that  inspired  him  in  his  more  con- 
genial pursuits  as  one  of  the  principal  men 


I on  the  turf.  The  alliance  between  him  and 
I Mr.  Disraeli  is  curious.  The  two  men,  one 
would  think,  could  have  had  absolutely  noth- 
ing in  common.  Mr.  Disraeli  knew  nothing 
about  horses  and  racing.  Lord  George  Ben- 
tinck could  not  possihly  have  understood, 
not  to  say  sympathized  with,  many  of  the 
leading  ideas  of  his  lieutenant.  Yet  Ben- 
tinck had  evidently  formed  a just  estimate  of 
Disraeli's  political  genius  ; and  Disraeli  saw 
that  in  Bentinck  were  many  of  the  special 
qualities  which  go  to  make  a powerful  party 
leader  in  England.  Time  has  amply  justified 
and  more  than  justified  Bentinck’s  convic- 
tions as  to  Disraeli  ; Bentinck’s  premature 
death  leaves  Disraeli’s  estimate  of  him  an  un- 
tested speculation. 

There  were  troubles  abroad  as  well  as  at 
home  for  the  Government.  Almost  immedi- 
ately on  their  coming  into  office,  the  project 
of  the  Spanish  marriages,  concocted  between 
King  Louis  Philippe  and  his  minister,  M. 
Guizot,  disturbed  for  a time  and  very  seri- 
ously the  good  understanding  between  Eng- 
land and  France.  It  might  so  far  as  this 
country  was  concerned  have  had  much  graver 
consequences,  but  for  the  fact  that  it  bore  its 
bitter  fruits  so  soon  for  the  dynasty  of  Louis 
Philippe,  and  helped  to  put  a new  ruler  on 
the  throne  of  France.  It  is  only  as  it  affected 
the  friendly  feeling  between  this  country 
and  France  that  the  question  of  the  Spanish 
marriages  has  a place  in  such  a work  as  this  ; 
but  at  one  time  it  seemed  likely  enough  to 
bring  about  consequences  which  would  link 
it  closely  and  directly  with  the  history  of 
England.  The  ambition  of  the  French  min- 
ister and  his  master  was  to  bring  the  throne 
of  Spain  in  some  way  under  the  direct  influ- 
ence of  France.  Such  a scheme  had  again 
and  again  been  at  the  heart  of  French  rulers 
and  statesmen,  and  it  had  always  failed. 
At  least  it  had  always  brought  with  it  jeal- 
ousy. hostility,  and  war.  Louis  Philippe 
and  his  minister  were  untaught  by  the  les- 
sons of  the  past.  The  young  Queen  Isabella 
of  Spain  was  unmarried,  and  of  course  a high 
degree  of  public  anxiety  existed  in  Europe  as 
to  her  choice  of  a husband.  No  delusion  can 
be  more  profound  or  more  often  exposed  than 
that  which  inspires  ambitious  princes  and  en- 
terprising statesmen  to  imagine  that  they  can 
control  nations  by  the  influence  of  dynastic 
alliances.  In  every  European  war  we  see 
princes  closely  connected  by  marriage  in 
arms  against  each  other.  The  great  politi- 
cal forces  which  bring  nations  into  the  field 
of  battle  are  not  to  be  charmed  into  submis- 
sion by  the  rubbing  of  a princess’s  wedding 
ring.  But  a certain  class  of  statesman,  a man 
of  the  order  who  in  ordinary  life  would  be 
called  too  clever  by  half,  is  always  intriguing 
about  royal  marriages  as  if  thus  alone  he 
could  hold  in  his  hands  the  destinies  of  na- 
tions. 

In  an  evil  hour  for  themselves  and  their 
fame,  Louis  Philippe  and  his  minister  be- 
lieved that  they  could  obtain  a virtual  owner- 
ship of  Spain  by  an  ingenious  marriage 
scheme.  There  was  at  one  time  a project, 
talked  of  rather  than  actually  entertained,  of 
marrying  the  young  Queen  of  Spain  and  her 
sister  to  the  Due  d’Aumale  and  the  Due  de 
Montpensier,  both  sons  of  Louis  Philippe. 
But  this  would  have  been  too  daring  a ven- 
ture on  the  part  of  the  King  of  the  French. 
Apart  from  any  objections  to  be  entertained 
by  other  states,  it  was  certain  that  England 
could  not  “ view  with  indifference,”  as  the 
diplomatic  phrase  goes,  the  prospect  of  a son 
of  the  French  King  occupying  the  throne  of 
Spain.  It  may  be  said  that  after  all  it  was- 
of  little  concern  to  England  who  married  the 
Queen  of  Spain.  Spain  was  nothing  to  us. 
It  would  not  follow  that  Spain  must  be  the 
tool  of  France  because  the  Spanish  Queen 
married  a son  of  the  French  King,  any  more 
than  it  was  certain  in  a former  day  that  Aus- 
tria must  link  herself  with  the  fortunes  of  the 
great  Napoleon  because  he  had  married  an 
Austrian  princess.  Probably  it  would  have 
been  well  if  England  had  concerned  herself 


58 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


in  no  wise  with  the  domestic  affairs  of  Spain, 
and  had  allowed  Louis  Philippe  to  spin  what 
ignoble  plots  he  pleased,  if  the  Spanish 
people  themselves  had  not  wit  enough  to  see 
■through  and  power  enough  to  counteract 
them."  At  a later  period  France  brought  on 
herself  a terrible  war  and  a crushing  defeat 
because  her  Emperor  chose  to  believe,  or  al 
lowed  himself  to  be  persuaded  into  believing, 
that  the  security  of  France  would  be  threat- 
ened if  a Prussian  prince  were  called  to  the 
throne  of  Spain.  The  Prussian  prince  did 
not  ascend  that  throne  ; but  the  war  between 
France  and  Prussia  went  on  ; France  was 
■defeated  ; and  after  a little  the  Spanish 
people  themselves  got  rid  of  the  prince  whom 
they  had  consented  to  accept  in  place  of  the 
.obnoxious  Prussian.  If  the  French  Emperor 
had  not  interfered,  it  is  only  too  probable 
that  the  Prussian  prince  would  have  gone  to 
Madrid,  reigned  there  for  a few  unstable  and 
tremulous  months,  and  then  have  b?en 
•quietly  sent  back  to  his  own  country.  But 
:at  the  time  of  Louis  Philippe’s  intrigues 
about  the  Spanish  marriages,  the  statesmen 
■of  England  were  by  no  means  disposed  to 
take  a cool  and  philosophic  view  of  things. 
The  idea  of  non-intervention  had  scarcely 
■come  up  then,  and  the  English  minister  who 
was  chiefly  concerned  in  foreign  affairs  was 
.about  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  admit  that 
■anything  could  go  on  in  Europe  or  else- 
where in  which  England  was  not  entitled  to 
express  an  opinion,  and  to  make  her  influ- 
ence felt.  The  marriage,  therefore,  of  the 
.young  Queen  of  Spain  had  been  long  a subject 
•of  anxious  consideration  in  the  councils  of  the 
^English  Government.  Louis  Philippe  knew 
•very  well  that  he  could  not  venture  to  marry 
•one  of  his  sons  to  the  young  Isabella.  But  he 
and  his  minister  devised  a scheme  for  secur- 
ing to  themselves  and  their  policy  the  same 
.effect  in  another  way.  They  contrived  that 
the  Queen  and  her  sister  should  be  married 
at  the  same  time — the  Queen  to  her  cousin, 
Hon  Francisco  d’Assis,  Duke  of  Cadiz  ; and 
lier  sister  to  the  Duke  de  Montpensier,  Louis 
Philippe’s  son.  There  was  reason  to  expect 
•that  the  Queen,  if  married  to  Don  Francisco, 
would  have  no  children,  and  that  the  wife  of 
Louis  Philippe’s  son,  or  some  of  her  chil- 
dren, would  come  to  the  throne  of  Spain. 

On  the  moral  guilt  of  a plot  li^e  this  it 
would  be  superfluous  to  dwell.  Nothing  in 
the  history  of  the  perversions  of  human  con- 
science and  judgment  can  be  more  extraor- 
dinary than  the  fact  that  a man  like  M. 
Guizot  should  have  been  its  inspiring  influ- 
ence. It  came  with  a double  shock  upon  the 
Queen  of  England  and  her  ministers,  because 
they  had  every  reason  to  think  that  Louis 
Philippe  had  bound  himself  by  a solemn 
promise  to  discourage  any  such  policy. 
When  the  Queen  paid  her  visit  to  Louis 
Philippe  at  Eu,  the  king  made  the  most  dis- 
tinct and  the  most  spontaneous  promise  on 
the  subject  both  to  her  Majesty  and  to  Lord 
Aberdeen.  The  Queen’s  own  journal  says  : 
“ The  King  told  Lord  Aberdeen  as  well  as 
me  he  never  would  hear  of  Montpensier’s 
marriage  with  the  Infanta  of  Spain— which 
they  are  in  a great  fright  about  in  England — 
until  it  was  no  longer  a political  question, 
which  would  be  when  the  Queen  is  married 
and  has  children.”  The  King’s  own  defence 
of  himself  afterwards,  in  a letter  intended  to 
be  a reply  to  one  written  to  his  daughter,  the 
Queen  of  the  Belgians,  by  Queen  Victoria, 
admits  the  fact.  “ I shall  tell  you  pre- 
cisely,” he  says,  “ in  what  consists  the  devia- 
tion on  my  side.  Simply  in  my  having 
arranged  for  the  marriage  of  the  Due  de 
Montpensier,  not  before  the  marriage  of  the 
Queen  of  Spain,  for  she  is  to  be  married  to 
the  Due  de  Cadiz  at  the  very  moment  when 
my  son  is  married  to  the  Infanta,  but  before 
the  Queen  has  a child.  That  is  the  whole 
deviation,  nothing  more,  nothing  less.”  This 
was  surely  deviation  enough  from  the  King’s 
promise  to  justify  any  charge  of  bad  faith 
that  could  be  made.  The  whole  question 
was  one  of  succession.  The  objection  of 


I England  aud  other  Powers  was  from  first 
to  last  an  objection  to  any  arrangement  which 
might  leave  the  succession  to  one  of  Louis 
Philippe’s  children  or  grandchildren.  For 
this  reason  the  King  had  given  his  word  to 
Queen  Victoria  that  he  would  not  hear  of  his 
son’s  marriage  with  Isabella’s  sister  until  the 
difficulty  about  the  succession  had  been  re- 
moved by  Isabella  herself  being  married  and 
having  a child.  Such  an  agreement  was 
absolutely  broken  when  the  King  arranged 
for  the  marriage  of  his  son  to  the  sister  of 
Queen  Isabella  at  the  same  time  as  Isabella’s 
own  marriage,  and  when,  therefore,  it  was 
not  certain  that  the  young  Queen  would  have 
any  children.  The  political  question,  the 
question  of  succession,  remained  then  open 
as  before.  All  the  objections  that  England 
and  other  Powers  had  to  the  marriage  of  the 
Due  de  Montpensier  stood  out  as  strong  as 
ever.  It  was  the  question  of  the  birth  of  a 
child,  and  no  child  was  born.  The  breach 
of  faith  was  made  infinitely  more  grave  by 
the  fact  that  in  the  public  opinion  of  Europe 
Louis  Philippe  was  set  down  as  having 
brought  about  the  marriage  of  the  Queen  of 
Spain  with  her  cousin  Don  Francisco  in  the 
hope  and  belief  that  the  union  would  be 
barren  of  issue,  and  that  the  wife  of  his  son 
would  stand  on  the  next  step  of  the  throne. 

The  excuse  which  Louis  Philippe  put  for- 
ward to  palliate  what  he  called  his  “ devia- 
tion” from  the  promise  to  the  Queen  was  not 
of  a nature  calculated  to  allay  the  ill-feeling 
which  his  policy  had  aroused  in  England. 
He  pleaded  in  substance  that  he  had  reason 
to  believe  in  an  intended  piece  of  treachery 
on  the  part  of  the  English  Government,  the 
consequences  of  which,  if  it  were  successful, 
would  have  been  injurious  to  his  policy,  and 
the  discovery  of  which,  therefore,  released 
him  from  his  promise.  He  had  found  out, 
as  he  declare#d,  that  there  was  an  intention 
on  the  part  or  England  to  put  forward,  as  a 
candidate  for  the  hand  of  Queen  Isabella, 
Prince  Leopold  of  Coburg,  a cousin  of  Prince 
Albert.  There  was  so  little  justification  for 
any  such  suspicion  that  it  hardly  seems  pos- 
sible a man  of  Louis  Philippe’s  shrewdness 
can  really  have  entertained  it.  The  English 
Government  had  always  steadfastly  declined 
to  give  any  support  whatever  to  the  candida- 
ture of  this  young  prince.  Lord  Aberdeen, 
who  was  then  Foreign  Secretary,  had  always 
taken  his  stand  on  the  broad  principle  that 
the  marriage  of  the  Queen  of  Spain  was  the 
business  of  Isabella  herself  and  of  the  Span- 
ish people,  and  that  so  long  as  that  Queen 
and  that  people  were  satisfied,  and  the  inter- 
ests of  England  were  in  no  wise  involved, 
the  Government  of  Queen  Victoria  would 
interfere  in  no  manner.  The  candidature  of 
Prince  Leopold  had  been  in  the  first  instance 
a project  of  the  Dowager  Queen  of  Spain, 
Christina,  a woman  of  intriguing  character, 
on  whose  political  probity  no  great  reliance 
could  be  placed.  The  English  Government 
had  in  the  most  decided  and  practical  man- 
ner proved  that  they  took  no  share  in  the 
plans  of  Queen  Christina,  and  had  no  sym- 
pathy with  them.  But  while  the  whole 
negotiations  were  going  on  the  defeat  of  Sir 
Robert  Peel’s  Ministry  brought  Lord  Pal- 
merston into  the  Foreign  Office  in  place  of 
Lord  Aberdeen.  The  very  name  of  Palmer- 
ston produced  on  Louis  Philippe  and  his 
minister  the  effect  vulgarly  said  to  be 
wrought  on  a bull  by  the  display  of  a red 
rag.  Louis  Philippe  treasured  in  bitter 
memory  the  unexpected  success  which  Pal- 
merston had  won  from  him  in  regard  to 
Turkey  and  Egypt.  At  that  time,  and  espe- 
cially in  the  court  of  Louis  Philippe,  foreign 
politics  were  looked  upon  as  the  field  in 
which  the  ministers  of  great  Powers  con- 
tended against  each  other  with  brag  and 
trickery  and  subtle  arts  of  all  kinds  ; the 
plain  principles  of  integrity  and  truthful 
dealing  did  not  seem  to  be  regarded  as  prop- 
erly belonging  to  the  rules  of  the  game. 
Louis  Philippe  probably  believed  in  good 
faith  that  the  return  of  Lord  Palmerston  to 


I the  Foreign  Office  must  mean  the  renewed 
activity  of  treacherous  plans  against  him- 
self. This  at  least  is  the  only  assump- 
tion on  which  we  can  explain  the  King's 
conduct,  if  we  do  not  wish  to  believe  that  he 
put  forward  excuses  and  pretexts  which  were 
wilful  in  their  falsehood.  Louis  Philippe 
seized  on  some  words  in  a dispatch  of  Lord 
Palmerston’s,  in  which  the  candidature  of 
Prince  Leopold  was  simply  mentioned  as  a 
matter  of  fact ; declared  that  these  words 
showed  that  the  English  Government  had  at 
last  openly  adopted  that  candidature,  pro- 
fessed himself  relieved  from  all  previous  en- 
gagements, and  at  once  hurried  on  the  mar- 
riage between  Queen  Isabella  and  her  cousin, 
and  that  of  his  own  son  with  Isabella’s  sis- 
ter. On  October  10th,  1846,  the  double  mar- 
riage took  place  at  Madrid  ; and  on  February 
5th  following,  M.  Guizot  told  the  French 
Chambers  that  the  Spanish  marriages  consti- 
tuted the  first  great  thing  France  had  ac- 
complished completely  single-handed  in 
Europe  since  1830. 

Every  one  knows  what  a failure  this 
scheme  proved,  so  far  as  the  objects  of  Louis 
Philippe  and  his  minister  were  concerned. 
Queen  Isabella  had  children  Montpensier’s 
wife  did  not  come  to  the  throne  ; and  the 
dynasty  of  Louis  Philippe  fell  before  long, 
its  fall  undoubtedly  hastened  by  the  position 
of  utter  isolation  and  distrust  in  which  it  was 
placed  by  the  scheme  of  the  Spanish  mar- 
riages and  the  feelings  which  it  provoked  in 
Europe.  The  fact  with  which  we  have  to 
deal,  however,  is  that  the  friendship  between 
England  and  France,  from  which  so  many 
happy  results  seemed  likely,  to  come  to 
Europe  and  the  cause  of  free  government, 
was  necessarily  interrupted.  It  would  have 
been  impossible  to  trust  any  longer  to  Louis 
Philippe.  The  Queen  herself  entered  into  a 
correspondence  with  his  daughter,  the  Queen 
of  the  Belgians,  in  which  she  expressed  in 
the  clearest  and  most  emphatic  manner  her 
opinion  of  the  treachery  with  which  England 
had  been  encountered,  and  suggested  plainly 
enough  her  sense  of  the  moral  wrong  involv- 
ed in  such  ignoble  policy.  The  whole  trans- 
action is  but  another  and  a most  striking  con- 
demnation of  that  odious  creed,  for  a long 
time  tolerated  in  statecraft,  that  there  is  one 
moral  code  for  private  life  and  another  for 
the  world  of  politics.  A man  who  in  private 
affairs  should  act  as  Louis  Philippe  and  M. 
Guizot  acted  would  be  justly  considered  in- 
famous. It  is  impossible  to  suppose  that  M. 
Guizot  at  least  could  have  so  acted  in  private 
life.  M.  Guizot  was  a Protestant  of  a pecu- 
liarly austere  type,  who  professed  to  make 
religious  duty  his  guide  in  all  things,  and 
who  doubtless  did  make  it  so  in  all  his  deal- 
ings as  a private  citizen.  But  it  is  only  too 
evident  that  he  believed  the  policy  of  states 
to  allow  of  other  principles  than  those  of 
Christian  morality.  He  allowed  himself  to 
be  governed  by  the  odious  delusion  that  the 
interests  of  a state  can  be  advanced  and 
ought  to  be  pursued  by  means  which  an  ordi- 
nary man  of  decent  character  would  scorn  to 
employ  for  any  object  in  private  life.  A man 
of  any  high  principle  would  not  employ  such 
arts  in  private  life  to  save  all  his  earthly  pos- 
sessions and  his  life  and  the  lives  of  his  wife 
and  children.  Any  one  who  will  take  the 
trouble  to  think  over  the  whole  of  this  plot, 
for  it  can  be  called  by  no  other  name,  over 
the  ignoble  object  which  it  had  in  view,  the 
base  means  by  wrhich  it  was  carried  out,  the 
ruthless  disregard  for  the  inclinations,  the 
affections,  the  happiness,  and  the  morality 
of  its  principal  victims  ; and  will  then  think 
of  it  as  carried  on  in  private  life  in  order  to 
come  at  the  reversion  of  some  young  and 
helpless  girl’s  inheritance,  will  perhaps  find 
it  hard  to  understand  how  the  shame  can  be 
any  the  less  because  the  principal  plotter  was 
a king,  and  the  victims  were  a queen  and  a 
nation. 

END  OF  VOLTJNtE  I. 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 

VOLUME  II. 


fif 


59 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

CHARTISM  AND  YOUNG  IRELAND. 

The  year  1848  was  an  era  in  the  modern 
history  of  Europe.  It  was  the  year  of  un- 
fulfilled revolutions.  The  fall  of  the  dynasty 
of  Louis  Philippe  may  be  said  to  have  set  the 
revolutionary  tide  flowing.  The  event  in 
France  had  long  been  anticipated  by  keen- 
eyed observers.  There  are  many  predic- 
tions, delivered  and  recorded  before  the  rev- 
olution was  vet  near,  which  show  that  it 
ought  not  to  have  taken  the  world  by  sur- 
prise. The  reign  of  the  Bourgeois  King  was 
unsuited  in  its  good  and  in  its  bad  qualities 
alike  to  the  genius  and  the  temper  of  the 
French  people.  The  people  of  France  have 
defects  enough  which  friends  and  enemies 
are  ready  to  point  out  to  them  ; but  it  can 
hardly  be  denied  that  they  like  at  least  the 
appearance  of  a certain  splendor  and  mag- 
nanimity in  their  systems  of  government. 
This  is  indeed  one  of  their  weaknesses.  It 
lays  them  open  to  the  allurements  of  any  bril- 
liant adventurer,  like  the  First  Napoleon  or 
the  Third,  who  can  promise  them  national 
greatness  and  glory  at  the  expense  perhaps  of 
domestic  liberty.  But  it  makes  them  pecu- 
liarly intolerant  of  anything  mean  and  sordid 
in  a system  or  a ruler.  There  are  peoples  no 
doubt  who  could  be  persuaded,  and  wisely 
persuaded,  to  put  up  with  a good  deal  of  the 
ignoble  and  the  shabby  in  their  foreign  policy 
for  the  sake  of  domestic  comfort  and  tran- 
quillity. But  the  French  people  are  always 
impatient  of  anything  like  meanness  in  their 
rulers,  and  the  government  of  Louis  Philippe 
was  especially  mean.  Its  foreign  policy  was 
treacherous  ; its  diplomatists  were  commis- 
sioned to  act  as  tricksters  ; the  word  of  a 
French  minister  at  a foreign  court  began  to 
be  regarded  as  on  a level  of  credibility  with  a 
dicer’s  oath.  The  home  policy  of  the  King 
was  narrow-minded  and  repressive  enough  ; 
but  a man  who  played  upon  the  national 
weakness  more  wisely  might  have  persuaded 
his  people  to  be  content  with  defects  at  home 
for  the  sake  of  prestige  abroad.  From  the 
hour  when  it  became  apparent  in  France  that 
the  nation  was  not  respected  abroad,  the  fall 
of  the  dynasty  was  only  a matter  of  time  and 
change.  The  terrible  story  of  the  De  Praslin 
family  helped  to  bring  about  the  catastro- 
phe ; the  alternate  weakness  and  obstinacy 
of  the  Government  forced  it  on  ; and  the 
King’s  own  lack  of  decision  made  it  impossi- 
ble that  when  the  trial  had  come  it  could  end 
in  any  way  but  one. 

Louis  Philippe  fled  to  England,  and  his 
flight  was  the  signal  for  long  pent-up  fires  to 
break  out  all  over  Europe.  Revolution  soon 
was  aflame  over  nearly  all  the  courts  and  cap- 
itals of  the  Continent.  Revolution  is  like  an 
epidemic  ; it  finds  out  the  weak  places  in  sys- 
tems. The  two  European  countries  which 
being  tried  by  it  stood  it  best,  were  England 
and  Belgium.  In  the  latter  country  the  King 
made  frank  appeal  to  his  people'  and  told 
them  that  if  they  wished  to  be  rid  of  him  he 
was  quite  willing  to  go.  Language  of  this 
kind  is  new  in  the  mouths  of  sovereigns  ; 
and  the  Belgians  are  a people  well  able  to  ap- 
preciate it.  They  declared  for  their  King, 
and  the  shock  of  the  revolution  passed  harm- 
lessly away.  In  England  and  Ireland  the 
effect  of  the  events  in  France  was  instantly 
made  manifest.  The  Chartist  agitation  at 
once  came  to  a head.  Some  of  the  Chartist 
leaders  called  out  for  the  dismissal  of  the 
Ministry,  the  dissolution  of  the  Parliament, 
the  Charter  and  “no  surrender.’’  A na- 
tional convention  of  Chartists  began  its  sit- 
tings in  London  to  arrange  for  a monster  de- 
monstration on  April  10.  Some  of  the  speak- 
ers openly  declared  that  the  people  were  now 


quite  ready  to  fight  for  their  Charter. 
Others,  more  cautious,  advised  that  no  step 
should  be  taken  against  the  law  until  at  least 
it  was  quite  certain  that  the  people  were 
stronger  than  the  upholders  of  the  existing 
laws.  Nearly  all  the  leading  Chartists  spoke 
of  the  revolution  in  France  as  an  example 
offered  in  good  time  to  the  English  people  ; 
and  it  is  somewhat  curious  to  observe  how  it 
was  assumed  in  the  most  evident  good  faith 
that  what  we  may  call  the  wage-receiving 
portion  of  the  population  of  these  islands 
constitutes  exclusively  the  English  people. 
What  the  educated,  the  wealthy,  the  owners 
of  land,  the  proprietors  of  factories,  the  min- 
isters of  the  different  denominations,  the  au- 
thors of  books,  the  painters  of  pictures,  the 
bench,  the  bar,  the  army,  the  navy,  the  med- 
ical profession — what  all  these  or  any  of 
them  might  think  with  regard  to  any  propos- 
ed constitutional  changes  was  accounted  a 
matter  in  no  wise  affecting  the  resolve  of  the 
English  “people.”  The  moderate  men 
among  the  Chartists  themselves  were  soon 
unable  to  secure  a hearing  ; and  the  word  of 
order  went  round  among  the  body,  that  “ the 
English  people”  must  have  the  Charter  or  a 
Republic.  What  had  been  done  in  France 
enthusiasts  fancied  might  well  be  done  in 
England. 

It  was  determined  to  present  a monster  pe- 
tition to  the  House  of  Commons  demanding 
the  Charter,  and  in  fact  offering  a last  chance 
to  Parliament  to  yield  quietly  to  the  demand. 
The  petition  was  to  be  presented  by  a depu- 
tation who  were  to  be  conducted  by  a vast 
procession  up  to  the  doors  of  the  House. 
The  procession  was  to  be  formed  on  Ken- 
nington  Common,  the  space  then  unenclosed 
which  is  now  Kennington  Park,  on  the  south 
side  of  London.  There  the  Chartists  were 
to  be  addressed  by  their  still  trusted  leader, 
Feargus  O’Connor,  and  they  were  to  march 
in  military  order  to  present  their  petition. 
The  object  undoubtedly  was  to  make  such  a 
parade  of  physical  force  as  should  overawe 
the  Legislature  and  the  Government,  and  de- 
monstrate the  impossibility  of  refusing  a de- 
mand backed  by  such  a reserve  of  power. 
The  idea  was  taken  from  O’Connell’s  policy 
in  the  monster  meetings  ; but  there  were 
many  of  the  Chartists  who  hoped  for  some- 
thing more  than  a mere  demonstration  of 
physical  force,  and  who  would  have  been 
heartily  glad  if  some  untimely  or  unreasona- 
ble interference  on  the  part  of  the  authorities 
had  led  to  a collision.  A strong  faith  still 
survived  at  that  day  in  what  was  grandiosely 
called  the  might  of  earnest  numbers.  Ar- 
dent young  Chartists  who  belonged  to  the 
time  of  life  when  anything  seems  possible  to 
the  brave  and  faithful,  and  when  facts  and 
examples  count  for  nothing  unless  they  favor 
one’s  own  views,  fully  believed  that  it  needed 
but  the  firing  of  the  first  shot,  “ the  sparkle 
of  the  first  sword  drawn,”  to  give  success  to 
the  arms,  though  but  the  bare  arms,  of  the 
people,  and  to  inaugurate  the  reign  of  lib- 
erty. Therefore,  however  differently  and 
harmlessly  events  may  have  turned  out,  we 
may  be  certain  that  there  went  to  the  rendez- 
vous at  Kennington  Common,  on  that  April 
10,  many  hundreds  of  ignorant  and  excitable 
young  men  who  desired  nothing  so  much  as 
a collision  with  the  police  and  the  military, 
and  the  reign  of  liberty  to  follow.  The  pro- 
posed procession  was  declared  illegal,  and  all 
peaceful  and  loyal  subjects  were  warned  not 
to  take  any  part  in  it.  But  this  was  exactly 
what  the  more  ardent  among  the  Chartists 
expected  and  desired  to  see.  They  were  re- 
joiced that  the  Government  had  proclaimed 
the  procession  unlawful.  Was  not  that  the 
proper  occasion  for  resolute  patriots  to  show 
that  they  represented  a cause  above  despotic 


law?  Was  not  that  the  very  opportunity 
offered  to  them  to  prove  that  the  people  were 
more  mighty  than  their  rulers,  and  that  the 
rulers  must  obey  or  abdicate  ? Was  not  the 
whole  sequence' of  proceedings  thus  far  ex- 
actly after  the  pattern  of  the  French  Revolu- 
tion ? The  people  resolve  that  they  will  have 
a certain  demonstration  in  a certain  way  ; 
the  oligarchical  Government  declare  that  they 
shall  not  do  so  ; the  people  persevere,  and  of 
course  the  next  thing  must  be  that  the  Gov- 
ernment falls,  exactly  as  in  Paris.  When 
poor  Dick  Swiveller  in  Dickens’s  story  is  re- 
covering from  his  fever,  he  looks  forth  of  his 
miserable  bed  and  makes  up  his  mind  that  he 
is  under  the  influence  of  some  such  magic 
spell  as  he  has  become  familiar  with  in  the 
“ Arabian  Nights.”  His  poverty-stricken 
little  nurse  claps  her  thin  hands  with  joy  to 
see  him  alive  ; and  Dick  makes  up  his  mind 
that  the  clapping  of  the  hands  is  the  sign  un- 
derstood of  all  who  read  Eastern  romance, 
and  that  next  must  appear  at  the  princess’s 
summons  the  row  of  slaves  with  jars  of  jew- 
els on  their  heads.  Poor  Dick  reasoning 
from  his  experiences  in  the  “ Arabian 
Nights,  ’ ’ was  not  one  whit  more  astray  than 
enthusiastic  Chartists  reasoning  for  the 
sequence  of  English  politics  from  the  evi- 
dence of  what  had  happened  in  France.  The 
slaves  with  the  jars  of  jewels  on  their  heads 
were  just  as  likely  to  follow  the  clap  of  the 
poor  girl’s  hands  as  the  events  that  had  fol- 
lowed a popular  demonstration  in  Paris  to 
follow  a popular  demonstration  in  London. 
To  begin  with,  the  Chartists  did  not  repre- 
sent any  such  power  in  London  as  the  Lib- 
eral deputies  of  the  French  Chamber  did  in 
Paris.  In  the  next  place,  London  does  not 
govern  England,  and  in  our  time  at  least 
never  did.  In  the  third  place,  the  English 
Government  knew  perfectly  well  that  they 
were  strong  in  the  general  support  of  the  na- 
tion, and  were  not  likely  to  yield  for  a single 
moment  to  the  hesitation  which  sealed  the 
fate  of  the  French  monarchy. 

The  Chartists  fell  to  disputing  among 
themselves  very  much  as  O’Connell’s  Re- 
pealers had  done.  Some  were  for  disobeying 
the  orders  of  the  authorities  and  having  the 
procession,  and  provoking  rather  than  avoid- 
ing a collision.  At  a meeting  of  the  Chartist 
Convention  held  the  night  before  the  demon- 
stration, “the  eve  of  Liberty,”  as  some  of 
the  orators  eloquently  termed  it,  a consider- 
able number  were  for  going  armed  to  Ken- 
nington Common.  Feargus  O’Connor  had, 
however,  sense  enough  still  left  to  throw  the 
weight  of  his  influence  against  such  an  insane 
proceeding,  and  to  insist  that  the  demonstra- 
tion must  show  itself  to  be,  as  it  was  from 
the  first  proclaimed  to  be,  a strictly  pacific 
proceeding.  This  was  the  parting  of  the 
ways  in  the  Chartist  as  it  had  been  in  the 
Repeal  agitation.  The  more  ardent  spirits  at 
once  withdrew  from  the  organization.  Those 
who  might  even  at  the  very  last  have  done 
mischief  if  they  had  remained  part  of  the 
movement,  withdrew  from  it ; and  Chartism 
was  left  to  be  represented  by  an  open  air 
meeting  and  a petition  to  Parliament,  like  all 
the  other  demonstrations  that  the  metropolis 
had  seen  to  pass,  hardly  heeded,  across  the 
field  of  politics.  But  the  public  at  large  was 
not  aware  that  the  fangs  of  Chartism  had 
been  drawn  before  it  was  let  loose  to  play  on 
Kennington  Common  that  memorable  10th 
of  April.  London  awoke  in  great  alarm  that 
day.  The  Chartists  in  their  most  sanguine 
moments  never  ascribed  to  themselves  half 
the  strength  that  honest  alarmists  of  the  bour- 
geois class  were  ready  that  morning  to  ascribe 
to  them.  The  wildest  rumors  were  spread 
abroad  in  many  parts  of  the  metropolis. 
Long  before  the  Chartists  had  got  together 


CO 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


on  Kennington  Common  at  all,  various  re- 
mote quarters  of  London  were  filled  with 
horrifying  reports  of  encounters  between  the 
insurgents  and  the  police  or  the  military,  in 
whicii  the  Chartists  invariably  had  the  better, 
and  as  a result  of  which  they  were  marching 
in  full  force  to  the  particular  district  where 
the  momentary  panic  prevailed.  London  is 
worse  oil  than  most  cities  in  such  a time  of 
alarm.  It  is  too  large  for  true  accounts  of 
things  rapidly  to  diffuse  themselves.  In 
April,  1848,  the  street  telegraph  was  not  in  use 
for  carrying  news  through  cities,  and  the  rap- 
idly succeeding  editions  of  the  cheap  papers 
weie  as  yet  unknown.  In  various  quarters 
of  London  therefore  the  citizen  was  left 
through  the  greater  part  of  the  day  to  all  the 
agonies  of  doubt  and  uncertainty. 

There  was  no  lack,  however,  of  public  pre- 
cautions against  an  outbreak  of  armed  Chart- 
ism. The  Duke  of  Wellington  took  charge 
of  all  the  arrangements  for  guarding  the  pub- 
lic buildings  and  defending  the  metropolis 
generally.  He  acted  with  extreme  caution, 
and  told  several  influential  persons  that  the 
troops  were  in  readiness  everywhere,  but  that 
they  would  not.be  seen  unless  an  occasion 
actually  rose  for  calling  on  their  services,  j 
The  coolness  and  preseuce  of  mind  of  the  ! 
stem  old  soldier  are  well  illustrated  in  the 
fact  that  to  several  persons  of  influence  and 
authority  who  came  to  him  with  suggestions 
for  the  defence  of  this  place  or  that,  his  al- 
most invariable  answer  was  “ done  already,”  j 
or  “ done  two  hours  ago,”  or  something  of 
the  kind.  A vast  number  of  Londoners  en- 
rolled themselves  as  special  constables  for  the 
maintenance  of  law  and  order.  Nearly  two 
hundred  thousand  persons,  it  is  said,  were 
sworn  in  for  this  purpose  ; and  it  will  always 
be  told  as  an  odd  incident  of  that  famous 
scare,  that  the  Prince  Louis  Napoleon,  then 
living  in  London,  was  one  of  those  who  vol- 
unteered to  bear  arms  in  the  preservation  of 
order.  Not  a long  time  was  to  pass  away  be- 
fore the  most  lawless  outrage  on  the  order  and 
life  of  a peaceful  city  was  to  be  perpetrated  j 
by  the  special  command  of  the  man  who  was 
so  ready  to  lend  the  saving  aid  of  his  consta- 
ble’s staff  to  protect  English  society  against  1 
some  poor  hundreds  or  thousands  of  English 
workingmen. 

The  crisis,  however,  luckily  proved  not  to 
stand  in  need  of  such  saviours  of  society. 
The  Chartist  demonstration  was  a wretched 
failure.  The  separation  of  the  Chartists  who 
wanted  force  from  those  who  wanted  orderly 
proceedings  reduced  the  project  to  nothing. 
The  meeting  on  Kennington  Common,  so  far 
from  being  a gathering  of  half  a million  of 
men,  was  not  a larger  concourse  than  a tem- 
perance demonstration  had  often  drawn  to- 
gether on  the  same  spot.  Some  twenty  or 
twenty-five  thousand  persons  were  on  Ken- 
nington Common,  of  whom  at  least  half  were 
said  to  be  mere  lookers-on,  come  to  see  what 
was  to  happen,  and  caring  nothing  whatever 
about  the  People’s  Charter.  The  procession 
was  not  formed,  O’Connor  himself  strongly 
insisting  on  obedience  to  the  orders  of  the 
authorities.  There  were  speeches  of  the 
usual  kind  by  O’Connor  and  others  ; and  the 
opportunity  was  made  available  by  some  of  i 
the  more  extreme  and  consequently  disap- 
pointed Chartists  to  express  in  very  vehe- 
ment language  their  not  unreasonable  con- 
viction that  the  leaders  of  the  convention 
were  humbugs.  The  whole  affair  in  truth 
was  an  absurd  anachronism.  The  lovers  of 
law  and  order  could  have  desired  nothing 
better  than  that  it  should  thus  come  forth  in 
the  light  of  day  and  show  itself.  The  clap 
of  the  hand  was  given,  but  the  slaves  with 
the  jars  of  jewels  did  not  appear.  It  is  not 
that  the  demands  of  the  Chartists  were  an- 
achronisms or  absurdities.  W e have  already 
shown  that  many  of  them  were  just  and  rea- 
sonable, and  that  all  came  within  the  fair 
scope  of  political  argument.  The  anachron- 
ism was  in  the  idea  that  the  display  of  phys- 
ical force  could  any  longer  be  needed  or  be 


allowed  to  settle  a political  controversy  in 
England.  The  absurdity  was  in  the  notion 
that-  the  wage-receiving  classes,  and  they 
alone,  are  “ the  people  of  England.” 

The  great  Chartist  petition  itself,  which 
was  to  have  made  so  profound  an  impression 
on  the  House  of  Commons,  proved  as  utter  a 
failure  as  the  demonstration  on  Kennington 
Common.  Mr.  O'Connor  in  presenting  this 
portentous  document  boasted  that  it  would 
be  found  to  have  five  million  seven  hundred 
thousand  signatures  in  round  numbers.  The 
calculation  was  made  in  very  round  numbers 
indeed.  The  Committee  on  Public  Petitions 
were  requested  to  make  a minute  examina- 
tion of  the  document,  and  to  report  to  the 
House  of  Commons.  The  committee  called 
in  the  service  of  a little  army  of  law-station- 
ers’ clerks,  and  went  to  work  to  analyze  the 
signatures.  They  found,  to  begin  with,  that 
the  whole  number  of  signatures,  genuine  or 
otherwise,  fell  short  of  two  millions.  But 
that  was  not  all.  The  committee  found  in 
many  cases  that  whole  sheets  of  the  petition 
were  signed  by  the  one  hand,  and  that  eight 
per  cent,  of  the  signatures  were  those  of  wom- 
en. It  did  not  need  much  investigation  to 
prove  that  a large  proportion  of  the  signa- 
tures were  not  genuine.  The  name  of  the 
Queen,  of  Prince  Albert,  of  the  Duke  of 
Wellington,  Sir  Robert  Peel,  Lord  John 
Russell,  Colonel  Sibthorp,  and  various  other 
public  personages,  appeared  again  and  again 
on  the  Chartist  roll.  Some  of  these  eminent 
persons  would  appear  to  have  carried  their 
zeal  for  the  People’s  Charter  so  far  as  to  keep 
signing  their  names  untiringly  all  over  the 
petition.  A large  number  of  yet  stranger  al- 
lies would  seem  to  have  been  drawn  to  the 
cause  of  the  Charter.  “ Cheeks  the  Marine” 
was  a personage  very  familiar  at  that  time  to 
the  readers  of  Captain  Marryat’s  sea  stories  ; 
and  the  name  of  that  mythical  hero  appeared 
with  bewildering  iteration  in  the  petition. 
So  did  “ Davy  Jones  so  did  various  per- 
sons describing  themselves  as  Pugnose,  Flat- 
nose,  Wooden-legs,  and  by  other  such  epi- 
thets acknowledging  curious  personal  de- 
fects. We  need  not  describe  the  laughter 
and  scorn  which  these  revelations  produced. 
There  really  was  not  anything  very  marvel- 
lous in  the  discovery.  The  petition  was  got 
up  in  great  haste  and  with  almost  utter  care- 
lessness. Its  sheets  used  to  be  sent  any- 
where, and  left  lying  about  anywhere,  on  a 
chance  of  obtaining  signatures.  The  temp- 
tation to  school-boys  and  practical  jokers  of 
all  kinds  was  irresistible.  Wherever  there 
was  a mischievous  hand  that  could  get  hold 
of  a pen,  there  was  some  name  of  a royal 
personage  or  some  Cheeks  the  Marine  at 
once  added  to  the  muster-roll  of  the  Chart- 
ists. As  a matter  of  fact,  almost  all  large 
popular  petitions  are  found  to  have  some 
such  buffooneries  mixed  up  with  their  seri- 
ous business.  The  Committee  on  Petitions 
have  on  several  occasions  had  reason  to  draw 
attention  to  the  obviously  fictitious  nature  of 
signatures  appended  to  such  documents. 
The  petitions  in  favor  of  O’Connell’s  move- 
ment used  to  lie  at  the  doors  of  chapels  all 
the  Sunday  long  in  Ireland,  with  pen  and 
ink  ready  for  all  who  approved  to  sign  ; and 
it  was  many  a time  the  favorite  amusement 
of  school-boys  to  scrawl  down  the  most  gro- 
tesque names  and  nonsensical  imitations  of 
names.  But  the  Chartist  petition  had  been 
so  loudly  boasted  of,  and  the  whole  Chartist 
movement  had  created  such  a scare,  that  the 
delight  of  the  public  generally  at  any  discov- 
ery that  threw  both  into  ridicule  was  over- 
whelming. It  was  made  certain  that  the 
number  of  genuine  signatures  was  ridicu- 
lously below  the  estimate  formed  by  the 
Chartist  leaders  ; and  the  agitation  after  ter- 
rifying respectability  for  a long  time  sudden- 
ly showed  itself  as  a thing  only  to  be  laugh- 
ed at.  The  laughter  was  stentorian  and 
overwhelming.  The  very  fact  that  the  pe- 
tition contained  so  many  absurdities  was  in 
itself  an  evidence  of  the  sincerity  of  those 


who  presented  it.  It  was  not  likely  that  they 
would  have  furnished  their  enemies  with  so 
easy  and  tempting  a way  of  turning  them 
into  ridicule,  if  they  had  known  or  suspected 
that  there  was  any  lack  of  genuineness  in  the 
signatures,  or  that  they  would  have  provided 
so  ready  a means  of  decrying  their  truthful- 
ness as  to  claim  five  millions  of  names  for  a 
document  which  they  knew  to  have  less  than 
two  millions.  The  Chartist  leaders  in  all 
their  doings  showed  a want  of  accurate  cal- 
culation, and  of  the  frame  of  mind  which  de- 
sires or  appreciates  such  accuracy.  The 
famous  petition  was  only  one  other  example 
of  their  habitual  weakness.  It  did  not  bear 
testimony  against  their  good  faith. 

The  effect,  however,  of  this  unlucky  pe- 
tition on  the  English  public  mind  was  de- 
cisive. From  that  day  Chartism  never  pre- 
sented itself  to  the  ordinary  middle-class 
Englishman  as  anything  but  an  object  of  rid- 
icule. The  terror  of  the  agitation  was  gone. 
There  were  efforts  made  again  and  again  dur- 
ing the  year  by  some  of  the  more  earnest  and 
extreme  of  the  Chartist  leaders  to  renew  the 
strength  of  the  agitation.  The  outbreak  of 
the  Young  Ireland  movement  found  many 
sympathizers  among  the  English  Chartists, 
more  especially  in  its  earlier  stages  ; and 
some  of  the  Chartists  in  London  and  other 
great  English  cities  endeavored  to  light  up 
the  fire  of  their  agitation  again  by  the  help  of 
some  brands  caught  up  from  the  pile  of  dis- 
affection which  Mitchel  and  Meagher  were 
setting  ablaze  in  Dublin.  A monster  gather- 
ing of  Chartists  was  announced  for  Whit-Mon- 
day, June  12,  and  again  the  metropolis  was 
thrown  into  a momentary  alarm,  very  differ- 
ent in  strength,  however,  from  that  of  the 
famous  10th  of  April.  Again  precautions 
were  taken  by  the  military  authorities  against 
the  possible  rising  of  an  insurrectionary 
mob.  Nothing  came  of  this  last  gasp  of 
Chartism.  TheTimesoi  the  following  day  re- 
marked that  there  was  absolutely  nothing  to 
record,  “ nothing  except  the  blankest  expec- 
tation, the  most  miserable  gaping,  gossiping, 
and  grumbling  of  disappointed  listeners  ; the 
standing  about,  the  roaming  to  and  fro,  the 
dispersing  and  the  sneaking  home  of  some 
poor  simpletons  who  had  wandered  forth  in 
the  hope  of  some  miraculous  crisis  in  their 
affairs.”  It  is  impossible  not  to  pity  those 
who  were  thus  deceived  ; not  to  feel  some  re- 
gret for  the  earnestness,  the  hope,  the  igno- 
rant passionate  energy  which  were  thrown 
away. 

Nor  can  we  feel  only  surprise  and  con- 
tempt for  those  who  imagined  that  the  Char- 
ter and  the  rule  of  what  was  called  in  their 
jargon  “ the  people”  would  do  something  to 
regenerate  their  miserable  lot.  They  had  at 
least  seen  that  up  to  that  time  Parliament  had 
done  little  for  them.  There  had  been  a Par- 
liament of  aristocrats  and  landlords,  and  it 
had  for  generations  troubled  itself  little  about 
the  class  from  whom  Chartism  was  recruited. 
The  sceptre  of  legislative  power  had  passed 
into  the  hands  of  a Parliament  made  up  in 
great  measure  of  the  wealthy  middle  ranks, 
and  it  had  thus  far  shown  no  inclination 
to  distress  itself  overmuch  about  them. 
Almost  every  single  measure  Parliament  has 
passed  to  do  any  good  for  the  wages-receiv- 
ing  classes  and  the  poor  generally  has  been 
passed  since  the  time  when  the  Chartists  be- 
gan to  be  a power.  Our  Corn  Laws’  repeal, 
our  factory  acts,  our  sanitary  legislation,  our 
measures  referring  to  the  homes  of  the  poor 
— all  these  have  been  the  work  of  later  times 
than  those  which  engendered  the  Chartist 
movement.  It  is  easy  to  imagine  a Chartist 
replying  in  the  early  days  of  the  movement 
to  some  grave  remonstrances  from  wise  leg- 
islators. He  mignt  say,  “ You  tell  me  I am 
mad  to  think  the  Charter  can  do  anything 
for  me  and  my  class.  But  can  you  tell  me 
what  else  ever  has  done,  or  tried  to  do,  any 
good  for  them?  You  think  I am  a crazy 
person  because  I believe  that  a popular  Par- 
liament could  make  anything  of  the  task  of 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


61 


government.  I ask  you  what  have  you  and 
your  lilce  made  of  it  already?  Things  are 
well  enough  no  doubt  for  you  and  your  class, 
a pitiful  minority  ; but  they  could  not  be  any 
worse  for  us,  and  we  might  make  them  better 
so  far  as  the  great  majority  are  concerned. 
We  may  fairly  crave  a trial  for  our  experi- 
ment. No  matter  how  wild  and  absurd  it 
may  seem,  it  could  not  turn  out  for  the  ma- 
jority any  worse  than  your  scheme  has 
done.”  It  would  not  have  been  very  easy 
then  to  answer  a speaker  who  took  this  line 
of  argument.  In  truth  there  was,  as  we 
have  already  insisted,  grievance  enough  to 
excuse  the  Chartist  agitation,  and  hope 
enough  in  the  scheme  the  Chartists  proposed 
to  warrant  its  fair  discussion.  Such  move- 
ments are  never  to  be  regarded  by  sensible 
persons  as  the  work  merely  of  knaves  and 
dupes. 

Chartism  bubbled  and  sputtered  a little 
yet  in  some  of  the  provincial  towns  and  even 
in  London.  There  were  Chartist  riots  in 
Ashton,  Lancashire,  and  an  affray  with  the 
police,  and  the  killing,  before  the  affray,  it  is 
painful  to  have  to  say,  of  one  policeman. 
There  were  Chartists  arrested  in  Manchester 
on  the  charge  of  preparing  insurrectionary 
movements.  In  two  or  three  public-houses 
in  London  some  Chartist  juntas  were  arrested, 
and  the  police  believed  they  had  got  evidence 
of  a projected  rising  to  take  in  the  whole  of 
the  metropolis.  It  is  not  impossible  that 
some  wild  and  frantic  schemes  of  the  kind 
were  talked  of  and  partly  hatched  by  some  of 
1 he  disappointed  fanatics  of  the  movement. 
Some  of  them  were  fiery  and  ignorant  enough 
for  anything  ; and  throughout  this  memora- 
ble year  thrones  and  systems  kept  toppling 
down  all  over  Europe  in  a manner  that  might 
well  have  led  feather  - headed  agitators  to 
fancy  that  nothing  was  stable,  and  that  in 
England  too  the  whistle  of  a few  conspirators 
might  bring  about  a transformation  scene. 
All  this  folly  came  to  nothing  but  a few  ar- 
rests and  a few  not  heavy  sentences.  Among 
those  tried  in  London  on  charges  of  sedition 
merely,  was  Mr.  Ernest  Jones,  who  was  sen- 
tenced to  two  years’  imprisonment.  Mr.  Jones 
has  been  already  spoken  of  as  a man  of  posi- 
tion and  of  high  culture  ; a poet  whose  verses 
sometimes  might  almost  claim  for  their  author 
the  possession  of  genius.  He  was  an  orator 
whose  speeches  then  and  after  obtained  the 
enthusiastic  admiration  of  John  Bright.  He 
belonged  rather  to  the  school  of  revolutionists 
which  established  itself  as  Young  Ireland  than 
to  the  class  of  the  poor  Fussells  and  Cuffeys 
and  uneducated  workingmen  who  made  up 
the  foremost  ranks  of  the  aggressive  Chartist 
movement  in  its  later  period.  He  might  have 
had  a brilliant  and  a useful  career.  He  out- 
lived the  Chartist  era ; lived  to  return  to 
peaceful  agitation,  to  hold  public  contro- 
versy with  the  eccentric  and  clever  Profes- 
sor Blackie,  of  Edinburgh,  on  the  relative 
advantages  of  republicanism  and  monarchy, 
and  to  stand  for  a Parliamentary  borough  at 
the  general  election  of  1868  ; and  then  his 
career  was  closed  by  death.  The  close  was 
sadly  premature  even  then.  He  had  plunged 
immaturely  into  politics,  and  although  a 
whole  generation  had  passed  away  since  his 
debut , he  was  but  a young  man  comparatively 
when  the  last  scene  came. 

Here  comes  not  inappropriately  to  an  end 
the  history  of  English  Chartism.  It  died  of 
publicity  ; of  exposure  to  the  air ; of  the 
Anti-Corn-Law  League  ; of  the  evident  tend- 
ency of  the  time  to  settle  all  questions  by 
reason,  argument,  and  majorities  ; of  grow- 
ing education  ; of  a strengthening  sense  of 
duty  among  all  the  more  influential  classes. 
When  Sir  John  Campbell  spoke  its  obituary 
years  before,  as  we  have  seen,  he  treated  it  as 
simply  a monster  killed  by  the  just  severity 
of  the  law.  Ten  years’  experience  taught  the 
English  public  to  be  wiser  than  Sir  John 
Campbell.  Chartism  did  not  die  of  its  own 
excesses  ; it  became  an  anachronism  ; no  one 
wanted  it  any  more.  All  that  was  sound  in 


its  claims  asserted  itself  and  was  in  time  con- 
ceded. But  its  active  or  aggressive  influence 
ceased  with  1848.  The  history  of  the  reign 
of  Queen  Victoria  has  not  any  further  to  con- 
cern itself  about  Chartism.  Not  since  that 
year  has  there  been  serious  talk  or  thought  of 
any  agitation  asserting  its  claims  by  the  use 
or  even  the  display  of  armed  force  in  Eng- 
land. 

The  spirit  of  the  time  had  meanwhile  made 
itself  felt  in  a different  way  in  Ireland.  For 
some  months  before  the  beginning  of  the 
year  the  Y oung  Ireland  party  had  been  estab- 
lished as  a rival  association  to  the  Repealers 
who  still  believed  in  the  policy  of  O’Connell. 
It  was  inevitable  that  O’Connell’s  agitation 
should  beget  some  such  movement.  The 
great  agitator  had  brought  the  temperament 
of  the  younger  men  of  his  party  up  to  a fever 
heat,  and  it  was  out  of  the  question  that  all 
that  heat  should  subside  in  the  veins  of  young 
collegians  and  school- boys  at  the  precise 
moment  w'hen  the  leader  found  that  he  had 
been  going  too  far  and  gave  the  word  for 
peace  and  retreat.  The  influence  of  O’Con- 
nell had  been  waning  for  a time  before  his 
death.  It  was  a personal  influence  depending 
on  his  eloquence  and  his  power,  and  these  of 
course  had  gone  down  with  his  physical  de- 
cay. The  Nation  newspaper,  which  was 
conducted  and  written  for  by  some  rising 
young  men  of  high  culture  and  remarkable 
talent,  had  long  been  writing  in  a style  of 
romantic  and  sentimental  nationalism  which 
could  hardly  give  much  satisfaction  to  or 
derive  much  satisfaction  from  the  somewhat 
cunning  and  trickish  agitation  which  O’Con- 
nell had  set  going.  The  Nation  and  the 
clever  youths  who  wrote  for  it  were  all  for 
nationalism  of  the  Hellenic  or  French  type, 
and  were  disposed  to  laugh  at  constitutional 
agitation  and  to  chafe  against  the  influence 
of  the  priests.  The  famine  had  created  an 
immense  amount  of  unreasonable  but  cer- 
tainly not  unnatural  indignation  against  the 
Government,  who  were  accused  of  having 
paltered  with  the  agony  and  danger  of  the 
time,  and  having  clung  to  the  letter  of  the 
doctrines  of  political  economy  when  death 
was  invading  Ireland  in  full  force.  The 
Young  Ireland  party  had  received  a new  sup- 
port by  the  adhesion  of  Mr.  William  Smith 
O’Brien  to  their  ranks.  Mr.  O’Brien  was  a 
man  of  considerable  influence  in  Ireland. 
He  had  large  property  and  high  rank.  He 
was  connected  with  or  related  to  many  aris- 
tocratic families.  His  brother  was  Lord 
Inchiquin  ; the  title  of  the  marquisate  of 
Thomond  was  in  the  family.  He  was  un- 
doubtedly descended  from  the  famous  Irish 
hero  and  king  Brian  Boru,  and  was  almost 
inordinately  proud  of  his  claims  of  long  de- 
scent. He  had  the  highest  personal  charac- 
ter and  the  finest  sense  of  honor  ; but  his 
capacity  for  leadership  of  any  movement  was 
very  slender.  A poor  speaker,  with  little 
more  than  an  ordinary  country  gentleman’s 
share  of  intellect,  O’Brien  was  a well-mean- 
ing but  weak  and  vain  man,  whose  head  at 
last  became  almost  turned  by  the  homage 
which  his  followers  and  the  Irish  people  gen- 
erally paid  to  him.  He  was  in  short  a sort  of 
Lafayette  manque ; under  the  happiest  aus- 
pices he  could  never  have  been  more  than 
a successful  Lafayette.  But  his  adhesion  to 
the  cause  of  Young  Ireland  gave  the  move- 
ment a decided  impulse.  His  rank,  his 
legendary  descent,  his  undoubted  chivalry  of 
character  and  purity  of  purpose  lent  a ro- 
mantic interest  to  his  appearance  as  the  rec- 
ognized leader,  or  at  least  the  figure-head,  of 
the  Young  Irelanders. 

Smith  O’Brien  was  a man  of  more  mature 
years  than  most  of  his  companions  in  the 
movement.  He  was  some  forty-three  or  four 
years  of  age  when  he  took  the  leadership  of 
the  movement.  Thomas  Francis  Meagher, 
the  most  brilliant  orator  of  the  party,  a man 
who  under  other  conditions  might  have  risen 
to  great  distinction  in  public  life,  was  then 
only  about  two  or  three  and  twenty.  Mitchel 


and  Duffy,  who  were  regarded  as  elders 
among  the  Young  Irelanders,  were  perhaps 
each  some  thirty  years  of  age.  There  were 
many  men  more  or  less  prominent  in  the 
movement  who  -were  still  younger  than 
Meagher.  One  of  these,  who  afterwards  rose 
to  some  distinction  in  America,  and  is  long 
since  dead,  wrote  a poem  about  the  time 
when  the  Young  Ireland  movement  was  at 
its  height,  in  which  he  commemorated  sadly 
his  attainment  of  his  eighteenth  year,  and 
deplored  that,  at  an  age  when  Chatterton  was 
mighty  and  Keats  had  glimpses  into  spirit- 
land — the  age  of  eighteen,  to  wit — he,  this 
young  Irish  patriot,  had  yet  accomplished 
nothing  for  his  native  country.  Most  of  his 
companions  sympathized  fully  with  him  and 
thought  his  impatience  natural  and  reason- 
able. The  Young  Ireland  agitation  was  at 
first  a sort  of  college  debating  society  move- 
ment, and  it  never  became  really  national. 
It  was  composed  for  the  most  part  of  young 
journalists,  young  scholars,  amateur  littera- 
teurs, poets  en  herbe,  orators  moulded  on  the 
finest  patterns  of  Athens  and  the  French  Rev- 
olution, and  aspiring  youths  of  theCherubino 
time  of  life,  who  were  ambitious  of  distinc- 
tion as  heroes  in  the  eyes  of  young  ladies. 
Among  the  recognized  leaders  of  the  party 
there  was  hardly  one  in  want  of  money. 
Some  of  them  were  young  men  of  fortune, 
or  at  least  the  sons  of  wealthy  parents.  Not 
many  of  the  dangerous  revolutionary  ele- 
ments were  to  be  found  among  these  clever, 
respectable,  and  precocious  youths.  The 
Young  Ireland  movement  was  as  absolutely 
unlike  the  Chartist  movement  in  England  as 
any  political  agitation  could  be  unlike 
another.  Unreal  and  unlucky  as  the  Chartist 
movement  proved  to  be,  its  ranks  were  re- 
cruited by  genuine  passion  and  genuine 
misery. 

Before  the  death  of  O’Connell  the  formal 
secession  of  the  Young  Ireland  party  from 
the  regular  Repealers  had  taken  place.  It 
arose  out  of  an  attempt  of  O’Connell  to  force 
upon  the  -whole  body  a declaration  condemn- 
ing the  use  of  physical  force — of  the  sword, 
as  it  was  grandiosely  called — in  any  patriotic 
movement  whatever.  It  was  in  itself  a sign 
of  O’Connell’s  failing  powers  and  judgment 
that  he  expected  to  get  a body  of  men  about 
the  age  of  Meagher  to  make  a formal  declara- 
tion against  the  weapon  of  Leonidas  and  Mil- 
tiades  and  all  the  other  heroes  dear  to  classic- 
ally-instructed youth.  Meagher  declaimed 
against  the  idea  in  a burst  of  poetic  rhetoric 
which  made  his  followers  believe  that  a new 
Grattan  of  bolder  style  was  coming  up  to  re- 
call the  manhood  of  Ireland  that  had  been 
banished  by  the  agitation  of  O’Connell  and 
the  priests.  “ I am  not  one  of  those  tame 
moralists,”  the  young  orator  exclaimed, 
“ who  say  that  liberty  is  not  worth  one  drop 
of  blood.  . . . Against  this  miserable  maxim 
the  noblest  virtue  that  has  saved  and  sancti- 
fied humanity  appears  in  judgment.  From 
the  blue  waters  of  the  Bay  of  Salamis  ; from 
the  valley  over  which  the  sun  stood  still  and 
lit  the  Israelite  to  victory  ; from  the  cathe- 
dral in  which  the  sword  of  Poland  has  been 
sheathed  in  the  shroud  of  Kosciusko  ; from 
the  convent  of  St.  Isidore  where  the  fiery 
hand  that  rent  the  ensign  of  St.  George  upon 
the  plains  of  Ulster  has  mouldered  into  dust ; 
from  the  sands  of  the  desert  where  the  wild 
genius  of  the  Algerine  so  long  has  scared  the 
eagle  of  the  Pyrenees  ; from  the  ducal  palace 
in  this  kingdom  where  the  memory  of  the 
gallant  and  seditious  Geraldine  enhances 
more  than  royal  favor  the  splendor  of  his 
race  ; from  the  solitary  grave  within  this 
mute  city  which  a dying  bequest  has  left 
without  an  epitaph — oh  ! from  every  spot 
where  heroism  has  had  a sacrifice  or  a tri- 
umph a voice  breaks  in  upon  the  cringing 
crowd  that  cherishes  this  maxim,  crying. 
Away  with  it — away  with  it !” 

The  reader  will  probably  think  that  a 
generation  of  young  men  might  have  enjoy- 
ed as  much  as  they  could  get  of  this  spark- 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


62 

ling  declamation  without  much  harm  being 
done  thereby  to  the  cause  of  order.  Only 
a crowd  of  well-educated  young  Irishmen 
fresh  from  college,  and  with  the  teaching  of 
their  country’s  history  which  the  Nation  was 
pouring  out  weekly  in  prose  and  poetry, 
could  possibly  have  understood  all  its  histor- 
ical allusions.  No  harm,  indeed,  would 
have  come  of  this  graceful  and  poetic  move- 
ment were  it  not  forevents  which  the  Young 
Ireland  party  had  no  share  in  bringing  about. 

The  Continental  revolutions  of  the  year 
1848  suddenly  converted  the  movement  from 
a literary  and  poetical  organization  into  a re- 
bellious conspiracy.  The  fever  of  that  wild 
epoch  spread  itself  at  once  over  Ireland. 
When  crowns  were  going  down  everywhere, 
what  wonder  if  Hellenic  Young  Irelandism 
believed  that  the  moment  had  come  when 
the  crown  of  the  Saxon  invader  too  was  des- 
tined to  fall  ? The  French  Revolution  and 
the  flight  of  Louis  Philippe  set  Ireland  in  a 
rapture  of  hope  and  rebellious  joy.  Lamar- 
tine became  the  hero  of  the  hour.  A copy 
of  his  showy,  superficial  “ Girondists”  was  in 
the  hand  of  every  true  Young  Irelander. 
Meagher  was  at  once  declared  to  be  the 
Yergniaud  of  the  Irish  revolution.  Smith 
O’Brien  was  called  upon  to  become  its  Lafay- 
ette. A deputation  of  Young  Irelanders, 
with  O’Brien  and  Meagher  at  their  head, 
waited  upon  Lamartine,  and  were  received 
by  him  with  a cool  good  sense  which  made 
Englishmen  greatly  respect  his  judgment  and 
prudence,  but  which  much  disconcerted  the 
hopes  of  the  Young  Irelanders.  Many  of 
these  latter  appear  to  have  taken  in  their 
most  literal  sense  some  words  of  Lamartine’s 
about  the  sympathy  of  the  new  French  Re- 
public with  the  struggles  of  oppressed  na- 
tionalities, and  to  have  fancied  that  the  Re- 
public would  seriously  consider  the  propriety 
of  going  to  war  with  England  at  the  request 
of  a few  young  men  from  Ireland,  headed  by  a 
country  gentleman  and  member  of  Parlia- 
ment. In  the  meantime  a fresh  and  a stronger 
influence  than  that  of  O'Brien  or  Meagher 
had  arisen  in  Young  Irelandism.  Young 
Ireland  itself  now  split  into  two  sections, 
one  for  immediate  action,  the  other  for  cau- 
tion and  delay.  The  party  of  action  ac- 
knowledged the  leadership  of  John  Mitchel. 
The  organ  of  this  section  was  the  newspaper 
started  by  Mitchel  in  opposition  to  the  Na- 
tion, which  had  grown  too  slow  for  him. 
The  new  journal  was  called  the  United  Irish- 
man. and  in  a short  time  it  had  completely 
distanced  the  Nation  in  popularity  and  in 
circulation.  The  deliberate  policy  of  the 
United  Irishman  was  to  force  the  hand  first 
of  the  Government  and  then  of  the  Irish 
people.  Mitchel  had  made  up  his  mind  so 
to  rouse  the  passion  of  the  people  as  to  com- 
pel the  Government  to  take  steps  for  the  pre- 
vention of  rebellion  by  the  arrest  of  some  of 
the  leaders.  Then  Mitchel  calculated  upon 
the  populace  rising  to  defend  or  rescue  their 
heroes — and  then  the  game  would  be  afoot ; 
Ireland  would  be  entered  in  rebellion  ; and 
the  rest  would  be  for  fate  to  decide. 

This  looks  now  a very  wild  and  hopeless 
scheme.  So  of  course  it  proved  itself  to  be. 
But  it  did  not  appear  so  hopeless  at  the  time, 
even  to  cool  heads.  At  least  it  may  be  called 
the  only  scheme  which  had  the  slightest 
chance  of  success  ; we  do  not  say  of  success 
in  establishing  the  independence  of  Ireland, 
which  Mitchel  sought  for,  but  in  setting  a 
genuine  rebellion  afoot.  Mitchel  was  the 
one  formidable  man  among  the  rebels  of  ’48. 
He  was  the  one  man  who  distinctly  knew 
what  he  wanted,  and  was  prepared  to  run  any 
risk  to  get  it.  He  was  cast  in  the  very 
mould  of  the  genuine  revolutionist,  and  un- 
der different  circumstances  might  have  played 
a formidable  part.  He  came  from  the  north- 
ern part  of  the  island,  and  was  a Protestant 
Dissenter.  It  is  a fact  worthy  of  note  that 
all  the  really  formidable  rebels  Ireland  has 
produced  in  modern  times,  from  Wolfe  Toue 
to  Mitchel,  have  been  Protestants.  Mitchel ; 


was  a man  of  great  literary  talent ; indeed  a 
man  of  something  like  genius.  He  wrote  a 
clear,  bold,  incisive  prose,  keen  in  its  scorn 
and  satire,  going  directly  to  the  heart  of  its 
purpose.  As  mere  prose  some  of  it  is  worth 
reading  even  to-day  for  its  cutting  force  and 
pitiless  irony.  Mitchel  issued  in  his  paper 
week  after  week  a challenge  to  the  Govern- 
ment to  prosecute  him.  He  poured  out  the 
most  fiery  sedition,  and  used  every  incentive 
that  words  could  supply  to  rouse  a hot- 
headed people  to  arms  or  an  impatient  Gov- 
ernment to  some  act  of  severe  repression. 
Mitchel  was  quite  ready  to  make  a sacrifice 
of  himself  if  it  were  necessary.  . It  is  possible 
enough  that  he  had  persuaded  himself  into 
the  belief  that  a rising  in  Ireland  against  the 
Government  might  be  successful.  But  there 
is  good  reason  to  think  that  he  would  have 
been  quite  satisfied  if  he  could  have  stirred 
up  by  any  process  a genuine  and  sanguinary 
insurrection,  which  would  have  read  well  in 
the  papers  and  redeemed  the  Irish  National- 
ists from  what  he  considered  the  disgrace  of 
never  having  shown  that  they  knew  how  to 
die  for  their  cause.  He  kept  on  urging  the 
people  to  prepare  for  warlike  effort,  and 
every  week’s  United  Irishman  contained  long 
descriptions  of  how  to  make  pikes  and  how 
to  use  them  ; how  to  cast  bullets,  how  to 
make  the  streets  as  dangerous  for  the  hoofs 
of  cavalry  horses  as  Bruce  made  the  field  of 
Bannockburn.  Some  of  the  recipes,  if  we 
may  call  them  so,  were  of  a peculiarly  fero- 
cious kind.  The  use  of  vitriol  was  recom- 
mended among  other  destructive  agencies. 
A feeling  of  detestation  was  not  unnaturally 
aroused  against  Mitchel,  even  in  the  minds  of 
many  who  sympathized  with  his  general 
opinions  ; and  those  whom  we  may  call  the 
Girondists  of  the  party  somewhat  shrank  from 
him,  and  would  gladly  have  been  rid  of  him. 
It  is  true  that  the  most  ferocious  of  these  vit- 
riolic articles  were  not  written  by  him  ; nor  did 
lie  know  of  the  famous  recommendation  about 
the  throwing  of  vitriol  until  it  appeared  in 
print.  He  was,  however,  justly  and  properly 
as  well  as  technically  responsible  for  all  that 
appeared  in  a paper  started  with  such  a pur- 
pose as  that  of  the  United  Irishman,  and  it 
is  not  even  certain  that  he  would  have  disap- 
proved of  the  vitriol-throwing  recommenda- 
tion if  he  had  known  of  it  in  time.  He  never 
disavowed  it  nor  took  any  pains  to  show  that 
it  was  not  his  own.  The  fact  that  he  was 
not  its  author  is  therefore  only  mentioned 
here  as  a matter  more  or  less  interesting,  and 
not  at  all  as  any  excuse  for  Mitchel’s  general 
style  of  newspaper  war-making.  He  was  a 
fanatic,  clever  and  fearless  ; he  would  neither 
have  asked  quarter  nor  given  it ; and  un- 
doubtedly if  Ireland  had  had  many  men  of 
his  desperate  resolve  she  would  have  been 
plunged  into  a bloody,  an  obstinate,  and  a dis- 
astrous contest  against  the  strength  of  the 
British  Government. 

In  the  meantime  that  Government  had  to 
do  something.  The  Lord  Lieutenant  could 
not  go  on  for  ever  allowing  a newspaper  to 
scream  out  appeals  to  rebellion,  and  to  pub- 
lish every  week  minute  descriptions  of  the 
easiest  and  quickest  way  of  killing  off  Eng- 
lish soldiers.  The  existing  laws  were  not 
strong  enough  to  deal  with  Mitchel  and  to 
suppress  his  paper.  It  would  have  been  of 
little  account  to  proceed  against  him  under 
the  ordinary  laws  which  condemned  seditious 
speaking  or  writing.  Prosecutions  were  in 
fact  set  on  foot  against  O’Brien,  Meagher, 
and  Mitchel  himself  for  ordinary  offences  of 
that  kind  ; but  the  accused  men  got  bail  and 
went  on  meantime  speaking  and  writing  as 
before,  and  when  the  cases  came  to  be  tried 
by  a jury  the  Government  failed  to  obtain  a 
conviction.  The  Government  therefore 
brought  in  a bill  for  the  better  security  of  the 
Crown  and  Government,  making  all  written 
incitement  to  insurrection  or  resistance  to 
the  law,  felony  punishable  with  transporta- 
tion. This  measure  was  passed  rapidly 
through  all  its  stages.  It  enabled  the  Gov- 


ernment to  suppress  newspapers  like  the 
United  Irishman,  and  to  keep  in  prison  with- 
out bail,  while  awaiting  trial,  any  one  charged 
with  an  offence  under  the  new  Act.  Mitchel 
soon  gave  the  authorities  an  opportunity  of 
testing  the  efficacy  of  the  Act  in  his  person. 
He  repeated  his  incitements  to  insurrection, 
was  arrested  and  thrown  into  prison.  The 
climax  of  the  excitement  in  Ireland  was 
reached  when  Mitchel’s  trial  came  on. 
There  can  be  little  doubt  that  he  was  filled 
with  a strong  hope  that  his  followers  would 
attempt  to  rescue  him.  He  wrote  from  his 
cell  that  he  could  hear  around  the  walls  of 
his  prison  every  night  the  tramp  of  hundreds 
of  sympathizers,  “ felons  in  heart  and  soul.” 
The  Government  for  their  part  were  in  full 
expectation  that  some  sort  of  rising  would 
take  place.  For  the  time,  Smith  O’Brien, 
Meagher,  and  all  the  other  Young  Irelanders 
were  thrown  into  the  shade,  and  the  eyes  of 
the  whole  country  were  turned  upon  Mitch- 
el’s  cell.  Had  there  been  another  Mitchel 
out  of  doors,  as  fearless  and  reckless  as  the 
Mitchel  in  the  prison,  a sanguinary  outbreak 
would  probably  have  taken  place.  But  the 
leaders  of  the  movement  outside  were  by  no 
means  clear  in  their  own  minds  as  to  the 
course  they  ought  to  pursue.  Many  of  them 
were  well  satisfied  of  the  hopelessness  and 
folly  of  any  rebellious  movement,  and  nearly 
all  were  quite  aware  that  in  any  case  the 
country  just  then  was  wholly  unprepared  for 
anything  of  the  kind.  Not  a few  had  a 
shrewd  suspicion  that  the  movement  never 
had  taken  any  real  hold  on  the  heart  of  the 
country.  Some  were  jealous  of  Mitchel’s 
sudden  popularity,  and  in  their  secret  hearts 
were  disposed  to  curse  him  for  the  trouble 
he  had  brought  on  them.  But  they  could 
not  attempt  to  give  open  utterance  to  such  a 
sentiment.  Mitcliel’s  boldness  and  resolve 
had  placed  them  at  a sad  disadvantage.  He 
had  that  superiority  of  influence  over  them 
that  downright  determination  always  gives  a 
man  over  colleagues  who  do  not  quite  know 
what  they  would  have.  One  thing  however 
they  could  do  ; and  that  they  did.  They  dis- 
couraged any  idea  of  an  attempt  to  rescue 
Mitchel.  His  trial  came  on.  He  was  found 
guilty.  He  made  a short  but  powerful  and 
impassioned  speech  from  the  dock  ; he  was 
sentenced  to  fourteen  years’  transportation  ; 
he  was  hurried  under  an  escort  of  cavalry 
through  the  streets  of  Dublin,  put  on  board 
a ship  of  war,  and  in  a few  hours  was  on  his 
way  to  Bermuda.  Dublin  remained  perfectly 
quiet ; the  country  outside  hardly  knew 
what  was  happening  until  Mitchel  was  well 
on  his  way,  and  far-seeing  persons  smiled  to 
themselves  and  said  the  danger  was  all  over. 

So  indeed  it  proved  to  be.  The  remainder 
of  the  proceedings  partook  rather  of  the  na- 
ture of  burlesque.  The  Young  Ireland  lead- 
ers became  more  demonstrative  than  ever. 
The  Nation  newspaper  now  went  in  openly  for 
rebellion,  but  rebellion  at  some  unnamed  time, 
and  when  Ireland  should  be  ready  to  meet 
the  Saxon.  It  seemed  to  be  assumed  that  the 
Saxon,  with  a characteristic  love  of  fair  play, 
would  let  his  foes  make  all  the  preparations 
they  pleased  without  any  interference,  and 
that  when  they  announced  themselves  ready, 
then,  but  not  until  then,  would  he  come  forth 
to  fight  with  them.  Smith  O'Brien  went 
about  the  country  holding  reviews  of  the 
“ Confederates,”  as  the  Young  Irelanders 
called  themselves.  The  Government  how- 
ever showed  a contempt  for  the  rules  of  fair 
play,  suspended  the  Habeas  Corpus  Act  in 
Ireland,  and  issued  warrants  for  the  arrest  of 
Smith  O'Brien,  Meagher,  and  other  Confed- 
erate leaders.  The  Young  Irelanders  received 
the  news  of  this  unchivalric  proceeding  with 
an  outburst  of  anger  and  surprise  which  was 
evidenly  genuine.  They  had  clearly  made 
up  their  minds  that  they  weie  to  go  on  play- 
ing at  preparation  for  rebellion  as  long  as 
they  liked  to  keep  up  the  game.  They  were 
completely  puzzled  by  the  new  condition  of 
things.  It  was  not  very  clear  what  Leonidas 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


63 


or  Vergniaud  would  have  done  under  such 
circumstances  ; it  was  certain  that  if  they 
were  all  arrested  the  country  would  not  stir 
hand  or  foot  on  their  behalf.  Some  of  the 
principal  leaders,  therefore — Smith  O’Brien, 
Meagher,  Dillon,  and  others — left  Dublin 
and  went  down  into  the  country.  It  is  not 
certain  even  yet  whether  they  had  any  clear 
purpose  of  rebellion  at  first.  It  seems  prob- 
able that  they  thought  of  evading  arrest  for 
a while,  and  trying  meantime  if  the  country 
was  ready  to  follow  them  into  an  armed 
moved.  They  held  a series  of  gatherings, 
which  might  be  described  as  meetings  of  agi- 
tators or  marshallings  of  rebels,  according  as 
one  was  pleased  to  interpret  their  purpose. 
But  this  sort  of  thing  very  soon  drifted  into 
rebellion.  The  principal  body  of  the  follow- 
ers of  Smith  O’Brien  came  into  collision  with 
the  police,  at  a place  called  Bailingarry  in 
Tipperary.  They  attacked  a small  force  of 
police,  who  took  refuge  in  the  cottage  of  a 
poor  widow  named  Cormack.  The  police 
held  the  house  as  a besieged  fort,  and  the 
rebels  attacked  them  from  the  famous  cab- 
bage-garden outside.  The  police  fired  a few 
volleys.  The  rebels  fired,  with  what  wretch- 
ed muskets  and  rifles  they  possessed,  but 
without  harming  a single  policeman.  After 
a few  of  them  had  been  killed  or  wounded 
— it  never  was  perfectly  certain  that  any  were 
actually  killed — the  rebel  army  dispersed,  and 
the  rebellion  was  all  over.  In  a few  days 
after  poor  Smith  O’Brien  was  taken  quietly 
at  the  railway  station  in  Thurles,  Tipperary. 
He  was  calmly  buying  a ticket  for  Limerick 
when  he  was  recognized.  He  made  no  resist- 
ance whatever,  and  seemed  to  regard  the 
whole  mummery  as  at  an  end.  He  accepted 
his  fate  with  the  composure  of  a gentleman, 
and  indeed  in  all  the  part  which  was  left  for 
him  to  play  he  bore  himself  with  dignity.  It 
is  but  justice  to  an  unfortunate  gentleman  to 
say  that  some  reports  which  were  rather 
ignobly  set  abroad  about  his  having  showed 
a lack  of  personal  courage  in  the  Bailingarry 
affray  were,  as  all  will  readily  believe,  quite 
untrue.  Some  of  the  police  deposed  that 
during  the  fight,  if  fight  it  could  be  called, 
poor  O ’Brien  exposed  his  life  with  entire  reck- 
lessness. One  policeman  said  he  could  have 
shot  him  easily  at  several  periods  of  the  little 
drama,  but  he  felt  reluctant  to  be  the  slayer  of 
the  misguided  descendant  of  the  Irish  kings. 
It  afterwards  appeared  also  that  any  little 
chance  of  carrying  on  any  manner  of  rebel- 
lion was  put  a stop  to  by  Smith  O’Brien’s 
own  resolution  that  his  rebels  must  not  seize 
the  private  property  of  any  one.  He  insisted 
that  his  rebellion  must  pay  its  way,  and  the 
funds  were  soon  out.  The  Confederate 
leader  woke  from  a dream  when  he  saw  his 
followers  dispersing  after  the  first  volley  or 
two  from  the  police.  From  that  moment  he 
behaved  like  a dignified  gentleman,  equal  to 
the  fate  he  had  brought  upon  him. 

Meagher  and  two  of  his  companions  were 
arrested  a few  days  after  as  they  were  wan- 
dering hopelessly  and  aimlessly  through  the 
mountains  of  Tipperary.  The  prisoners  were 
brought  for  trial  before  a special  commission 
held  at  Clonmel  in  Tipperary,  in  the  follow- 
ing September.  Smith  O’Brien  was  the  first 
put  on  trial,  and  he  was  found  guilty.  He 
said  a few  words  with  grave  and  dignified 
composure,  simply  declaring  that  he  had  en- 
deavored to  do  his  duty  to  his  native  country, 
and  that  he  was  prepared  to  abide  the  conse- 
quences. He  was  sentenced  to  death  after 
the  old  form  in  cases  of  high  treason — to  be 
hanged,  beheaded,  and  quartered.  Meagher 
was  afterwards  found  guilty.  Great  com- 
miseration was  felt  for  him.  His  youth  and 
his  eloquence  made  all  men  and  women  pity 
him.  His  father  was  a wealthy  man  who 
had  had  a respected  career  in  Parliament  ; 
and  there  had  seemed  at  one  time  to  be  a 
bright  and  happy  life  before  young  Mea- 
gher. The  short  address  in  which  Meagher 
vindicated  his  actions  when  called  upon  to 
show  cause  why  sentence  of  death  should  not 


be  passed  upon  him,  was  full  of  manly  and 
pathetic  eloquence.  He  had  nothing,  he  said, 
to  retract  or  to  ask  pardon  for.  ‘ ‘ I am  not 
here  to  crave  with  faltering  lip  the  life  I have 
consecrated  to  the  independence  of  my  coun- 
try. ...  I offer  to  my  country,  as  some 
proof  of  the  sincerity  with  which  I have 
thought  and  spoken  and  struggled  for  her,  the 
life  of  a young  heart.  . . . The  history 

of  Ireland  explains  my  crime  and  justifies 
it.  . . . Even  here,  where  the  shadows 

of  death  surround  me,  and  from  which  I see 
my  early  grave  opening  for  me  in  no  conse- 
crated soil,  the  hope  which  beckoned  me  forth 
on  that  perilous  sea  whereon  I have  been 
wrecked,  animates,  consoles,  enraptures  me. 
No,  I do  not  despair  of  my  poor  old  coun- 
try, her  peace,  her  liberty,  her  glory.” 

Meagher  was  sentenced  to  death  with  the 
same  hideous  formularies  as  those  which  had 
been  observed  in  the  case  of  Smith  O’Brien. 
No  one,  however, really  believed  for  a moment 
that  such  a sentence  was  likely  to  be  carried 
out  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Victoria.  The 
sentence  of  death  was  changed  into  one  of 
transportation  for  life.  Nor  was  even  this 
carried  out.  The  convicts  were  all  sent  to 
Australia,  and  a few  years  after  Mitchel  con- 
trived to  make  his  escape,  followed  by  Mea- 
gher. The  manner  of  escape  was  at  least  of 
doubtful  credit  to  the  prisoners,  for  they 
were  placed  under  parole,  and  a very  nice 
question  was  raised  as  to  whether  they  had 
not  broken  their  parole  by  the  attempt  to 
escape.  It  was  a nice  question,  which  in  the 
case  of  men  of  very  delicate  sense  of  honor 
could,  one  would  think,  hardly  have  arisen  at 
all.  The  point  in  Mitchel’s  case  was,  that  he 
actually  went  to  the  police  court  within 
whose  jurisdiction  he  was,  formally  and  pub- 
licly announced  to  the  magistrate  that  he 
withdrew  his  parole,  and  invited  the  magis- 
trate to  arrest  him  then  and  there.  But  the 
magistrate  was  unprepared  for  his  coming, 
and  was  quite  thrown  off  his  guard.  Mitchel 
was  armed,  and  so  was  a friend  who  accom- 
panied him,  and  who  had  planned  and  carried 
out  the  escape.  They  had  horses  waiting  at 
the  door,  and  when  they  saw  that  the  magis- 
trate did  not  know  what  to  do,  they  left  Ihe 
court,  mounted  the  horses,  and  rode  away. 
It  was  contended  by  Mitchel  and  by  his  com- 
panion, Mr.  P.  J.  Smyth  (afterwards  a distin- 
guished member  of  Parliament),  that  they 
had  fulfilled  all  the  conditions  required  by 
the  parole,  and  had  formally  and  honorably 
withdrawn  it.  One  is  only  surprised  how 
men  of  honor  could  thus  puzzle  and  deceive 
themselves.  The  understood  condition  of  a 
parole  is  that  a man  who  intends  to  withdraw 
it  shall  place  himself  before  his  captors  in  ex- 
actly the  same  condition  as  he  was  when  on 
his  pledged  word  of  honor  they  allowed  him 
a comparative  liberty.  It  is  evident  that  a 
prisoner  would  never  be  allowed  to  go  at 
large  on  parole  if  he  were  to  make  use  of  his 
liberty  to  arrange  all  the  conditions  of  an  es- 
cape, and  when  everything  was  ready  take 
his  captors  by  surprise,  tell  them  he  was  no 
longer  bound  by  the  conditions  of  the  pledge, 
and  that  they  might  keep  him  if  they  could. 
This  was  the  view  taken  by  Smith  O’Brien, 
who  declined  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
any  plot  for  escape  while  he  was  on  parole. 
The  advisers  of  the  Crown  recommended 
that  a conditional  pardon  should  be  given  to 
the  gallant  and  unfortunate  gentleman  who 
had  behaved  in  so  honorable  a manner 
Smith  O’Brien  received  a pardon  on  condi- 
tion of  his  not  returning  to  these  islands  ; but 
this  condition  was  withdrawn  after  a time, 
and  he  came  back  to  Ireland.  He  died 
quietly  in  Wales  in  1864.  Mitchel  settled  for 
a while  in  Richmond,  Virginia,  and  became 
an  ardent  advocate  of  slavery  and  an  impas- 
sioned champion  of  the  Southern  rebellion. 
He  returned  to  the  North  after  the  rebellion, 
and  more  lately  came  to  Ireland,  where, 
owing  to  some  defect  in  the  criminal  law,  he 
could  not  be  arrested,  his  time  of  penal  servi- 
tude having  expired,  although  he  had  not 


served  it.  He  was  still  a hero  with  a certain 
class  of  the  people  ; he  was  put  up  as  a candi 
date  for  an  Irish  county,  and  elected.  He 
was  not  allowed  to  enter  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, however  ; the  election  was  declared 
void,  and  a new  writ  was  issued.  He  was- 
elected  again,  and  some  turmoil  wras  expect- 
ed, when  suddenly  Mitchel,  who  had  long- 
been  in  sinking  health,  was  withdrawn  from 
the  controversy  by  death.  He  should  have- 
died  before.  The  later  years  of  his  life  were 
only  an  anti-climax.  His  attitude  in  the 
dock  in  1848  had  something  of  dignity  and 
heroism  in  it,  and  even  the  staunchest  en- 
emies of  his  cause  admired  him.  He  had 
undoubtedly  great  literary  ability,  and  if  he 
had  never  reappeared  in  politics  the  world 
would  have  thought  that  a really  brilliant 
light  had  been  prematurely  extinguished. 
Meagher  served  in  the  army  of  the  Federal 
States  when  the  war  broke  out,  and  showed 
much  of  the  soldier’s  spirit  and  capacity. 
His  end  was  premature  and  inglorious.  He 
fell  from  the  deck  of  a steamer  one  night  ; it 
was  dark  and  there  was  a strong  current  run- 
ning ; help  came  too  late.  A false  step,  a 
dark  night,  and  the  muddy  waters  of  the 
Missouri  closed  the  career  that  had  opened 
with  so  much  promise  of  brightness. 

Many  of  the  conspicuous  Y oung  Irelanders 
rose  to  some  distinction.  Charles  Gavan 
Duffy,  the  editor  of  the  Nation , who  was 
twice  put  on  his  trial  after  the  failure  of  the 
insurrection,  but  whom  the  jury  would  not 
on  either  occasion  convict,  became  a member 
of  the  House  of  Commons,  and  afterwards 
emigrated  to  the  colony  of  Victoria.  He  rose 
to  be  Prime  Minister  there,  and  received 
knighthood  arid  a pension.  Thomas  Darcy 
M‘Gee,  another  prominent  rebel,  went  to  the 
United  States,  and  thence  to  Canada,  where 
he  rose  to  be  a minister  of  the  Crown.  He 
was  one  of  the  most  loyal  supporters  of  the 
British  connection.  His  untimely  death  by 
the  hand  of  an  assassin  was  lamented  in  Eng- 
land as  well  as  in  the  colony  he  had  served  so 
well.  Some  of  the  Young  Irelanders  re- 
mained in  the  United  States  and  won  repute  ; 
others  returned  to  England,  and  of  these  not 
a few  entered  the  House  of  Commons  and 
were  respected  there,  the  follies  of  their 
youth  quite  forgotten  by  their  colleagues, 
even  if  not  disowned  by  themselves.  A re- 
markable illustration  of  the  spirit  of  fairness 
that  generally  pervades  the  House  of  Com- 
mons is  found  in  the  fact  that  every  one  there 
respected  John  Martin,  who  to  the  day  of 
his  death  avowed  himself,  in  Parliament  and 
out  of  it,  a consistent  and  unrepentant  op- 
ponent of  British  rule  in  Ireland.  He  was 
respected  because  of  the  purity  of  his  char- 
acter and  the  transparent  sincerity  of  his 
purpose.  Martin  had  been  devoted  to  Mitchel 
in  his  lifetime,  and  he  died  a few  days  after 
Mitchel’s  death. 

The  Y oung  Ireland  movement  came  and 
vanished  like  a shadow.  It  never  had  any 
reality  or  substance  in  it.  It  was  a literary  and 
poetic  inspiration  altogether.  It  never  took  the 
slightest  hold  of  the  peasantry.  It  hardly 
touched  any  men  of  mature  years.  It  was  a 
rather  pretty  playing  at  rebellion.  It  was  an 
imitation  of  the  French  Revolution,  as  the 
Girondists  imitated  the  patriots  of  Greece 
and  Rome.  But  it  might,  perhaps,  have  had 
a chance  of  doing  memorable  mischief  if  the 
policy  of  the  one  only  man  in  the  business 
who  really  was  in  earnest  and  was  reckless 
had  been  carried  out.  It  is  another  illustra- 
tion of  the  fact  which  O’Connell’s  movement 
had  exemplified  before,  that  in  Irish  politics 
a climax  -cannot  be  repeated  or  recalled. 
There  is  something  fitful  in  all  Irish  agita- 
tion. The  national  emotion  cau  be  wrought 
up  to  a certain  temperature,  and  if  at  that 
boiling  point  nothing  is  done,  the  heat  sud- 
denly goes  out,  and  no  blowing  of  Cyclopean 
bellows  can  rekindle  it.  The  Repeal  agita- 
tion was  brought  up  to  this  point  when  the 
meeting  at  Clontarf  was  convened  ; the  dis- 
persal of  the  meeting  was  the  end  of  the 


64 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


whole  agitation.  With  the  Young  Ireland 
movement  the  trial  of  Mitchel  formed  the 
climax.  After  that  a wise  legislator  would 
have  known  that  there  was  nothing  more  to 
fear.  Petion,  the  revolutionary  Mayor  of 
Paris,  knew  that  when  it  rained  his  partisans 
could  do  nothing.  There  were  in  1848  observ- 
ant Irishmen  who  knew  that  after  the 
Mitchel  climax  had  been  reached  the  crowd 
would  disperse  not  to  be  collected  again  for 
that  time. 

These  two  agitations,  the  Chartist  and  the 
Young  Ireland,  constituted  what  may  be 
called  our  tribute  to  the  power  of  the  insur- 
rectionary spirit  that  was  abroad  over  Europe 
in  1848.  In  almost  every  other  European 
State  revolution  raised  its  head  fiercely,  and 
fought  out  its  claims  in  the  very  capital,  un- 
der the  eyes  of  bewildered  royalty.  The 
whole  of  Italy,  from  the  Alps  to  the  Straits 
of  Messina,  and  from  Venice  to  Genoa,  was 
thrown  into  convulsion  ; “ Our  Italy”  once 
again  “shone  o’er  with  civil  swords.” 
There  was  insurrection  in  Berlin  and  in  Vien- 
na. The  Emperor  had  to  fly  from  the  latter 
city  as  the  Pope  had  fled  from  Rome.  In 
Paris  there  came  a Red  Republican  rising 
against  a Republic  that  strove  not  to  be  red, 
and  the  rising  was  crushed  by  Cavaignac 
with  a terrible  strenuousness  that  made  some 
of  the  streets  of  Paris  literally  to  run  with 
blood.  It  was  a grim  foreshadowing  of  the 
Commune  of  1871.  Another  remarkable 
foreshadowing  of  what  was  to  come  was  seen 
in  the  fact  that  the  Prince  Louis  Napoleon, 
long  an  exile  from  France,  had  been  allowed  to 
return  to  it,  and  at  the  close  of  the  year,  in 
the  passion  for  law  and  order  at  any  price 
born  of  the  Red  Republican  excesses,had  been 
elected  President  of  the  French  Republic. 
Hungary  was  in  arms  ; Spain  was  in  convul- 
sion ; even  Switzerland  was  not  safe.  Our 
contribution  to  this  general  commotion  was 
to  be  found  in  the  demonstration  on  Ken- 
nington  Common,  and  the  abortive  attempt 
at  a rising  near  Ballingarry.  There  could 
not  possibly  be  a truer  tribute  to  the  solid 
strength  of  our  system.  Not  for  one  mo- 
ment was  the  political  constitution  of  Eng- 
land seriously  endangered.  Not  for  one  hour 
did  the  safety  of  our  great  communities  re- 
quire a call  upon  the  soldiers  instead  of  upon 
the  police.  Not  one  charge  of  cavalry  was 
needed  to  put  down  the  fiercest  outburst  of 
the  rebellious  spirit  in  England.  Not  one 
single  execution  took  place.  The  meaning 
of  this  is  clear.  It  is  not  that  there  were  no 
grievances  in  our  system  calling  for  redress. 
It  is  not  that  the  existing  institutions  did  not 
bear  heavily  down  on  many  classes.  It  is 
not  that  our  political  or  social  system  was  so 
conspicuously  better  than  that  of  some  Euro- 
pean countries  which  were  torn  and  plough- 
ed up  by  revolution.  To  imagine  that  we 
owed  our  freedom  from  revolution  to  our 
freedom  from  serious  grievance  would  be  to 
misread  altogether  the  lessons  offered  to  our 
statesmen  by  that  eventful  year.  We  have 
done  the  work  of  whole  generations  of 
Reformers  in  the  interval  between  this  time 
and  that.  We  have  made  peaceful  reforms, 
political,  industrial,  legal,  since  then,  which, 
if  not  to  be  had  otherwise,  would  have  justi- 
fied any  appeal  to  revolution.  There,  how- 
ever, we  touch  upon  the  lesson  of  the  time. 
Our  political  and  constitutional  system  ren- 
dered an  appeal  to  force  unnecessary  and  su- 
perfluous. No  call  to  arms  was  needed  to 
bring  about  any  reform  that  the  common 
judgment  of  the  country  might  demand. 
Other  peoples  flew  to  arms  because  they  were 
driven  by  despair  ; because  there  was  no  way 
in  their  political  constitution  for  the  influence 
of  public  opinion  to  make  itself  justly  felt ; be- 
cause those  who  were  in  power  held  it  by  the 
force  of  bayonets  and  not  of  public  agreement. 
The  results  of  the  year  were  on  the  whole  un- 
favorable to  popular  liberty.  The  results  of 
the  year  that  followed  were  decidedly  reac- 
tionary. The  time  had  not  come  in  1848  or 
^ 1849  for  Liberal  principles  to  assert  them- 


selves. Their  “ great  deed,”  to  quote  some 
of  the  words  of  our  English  poetess,  Eliza- 
beth Barrett  Browning,  “ was  too  great.” 
W e in  this  country  were  saved  alike  from  the 
revolution  and  the  reaction  by  the  universal 
recognition  of  the  fact,  among  all  who  gave 
themselves  time  to  think,  that  public  opin- 
ion, being  the  ultimate  ruling  power,  was  the 
only  authority  to  which  an  appeal  was  need- 
ed, and  that  in  the  end  justice  would  be  done. 
All  but  the  very  wildest  spirits  could  afford  to 
wait  ; and  no  revolutionary  movement  is 
really  dangerous  which  is  only  the  work  of 
the  wildest  spirits. 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

DON  PACIFICO. 

The  name  of  Don  Pacifico  was  as  familiar 
to  the  world  some  quarter  of  a century  ago 
as  that  of  M.  Jecker  was  about  the  time  of 
the  French  invasion  of  Mexico.  Don  Pacifi- 
co became  famous  for  a season  as  the  man 
whose  quarrel  had  nearly  brought  on  a Euro- 
pean war,  caused  a temporary  disturbance  of 
good  relations  between  England  and  France, 
split  up  political  parties  in  England  in  a man- 
ner hardly  ever  known  before,  and  established 
the  reputation  of  Lord  Palmerston  as  one  of 
the  greatest  Parliamentary  debaters  of  liis 
time.  Among  the  memorable  speeches  deliv- 
ered in  the  English  House  of  Commons,  that 
of  Lord  Palmerston  on  the  Don  Pacifico  de- 
bate must  always  take  a place.  It  was  not 
because  the  subject  of  the  debate  was  a great 
one,  or  because  there  were  any  grand  prin- 
ciples involved.  The  question  originally  in 
dispute  was  unutterably  trivial  and  paltry  ; 
there  was  no  particular  principle  involved  ; 
it  was  altogether  what  is  called  in  commercial 
litigation  a question  of  account  ; a controversy 
about  the  amount  and  time  of  payment  of  a 
doubtful  claim.  Nor  was  the  speech  deliv- 
ered by  Lord  Palmerston  one  of  the  grand 
historical  displays  of  oratory  that  even  when 
the  sound  of  them  is  lost  send  their  echoes  to 
“ roll  from  soul  to  soul.”  It  was  not  like 
one  of  Burke’s  great  speeches,  or  one  of 
Chatham’s.  It  was  not  one  calculated  to 
provoke  keen  literary  controversy,  like  Sher- 
idan’s celebrated  “Begum  speech,”  which 
all  contemporaries  held  to  be  unrivalled,  but 
which  a later  generation  assumes  to  have 
been  rather  flashy  rhetoric.  There  are  no 
passages  of  splendid  eloquence  in  Palmer- 
ston’s Pacifico  speech.  Its  great  merit  was 
its  wonderful  power  as  a contribution  to  Par- 
liamentary argument  ; as  a masterly  appeal 
to  the  feelings,  the  prejudices,  and  the  pas- 
sions of  the  House  of  Commons  ; as  a com- 
plete Parliamentary  victory  over  a combina- 
tion of  the  mosi  influential,  eloquent,  and 
heterogeneous  opponents. 

Don  Pacifico  wras  a Jew,  a Portuguese  by 
extraction,  but  a native  of  Gibraltar,  and  a 
British  subject.  His  house  in  Athens  was 
attacked  and  plundered  in  the  open  day  on 
April  4,  1847,  by  an  Athenian  mob,  who 
were  headed,  it  was  affirmed,  by  two  sons  of 
the  Greek  Minister  of  W ar.  The  attack  came 
about  in  this  way.  It  had  been  customary 
in  Greek  towns  to  celebrate  Easter  by  burn- 
ing an  effigy  of  Judas  Iscariot.  In  1847  the 
police  of  Athens  were  ordered  to  prevent  this 
performance,  and  the  mob,  disappointed  of 
their  favorite  amusement,  ascribed  the  new 
orders  to  the  influence  of  the  Jews.  Don 
Pacifico ’s  house  happened  to  stand  near  the 
spot  where  the  Judas  was  annually  burnt ; 
Don  Pacifico  was  known  to  be  a Jew  ; and 
the  anger  of  the  mob  was  wreaked  upon  him 
accordingly.  There  could  be  no  doubt  that 
the  attack  was  lawless,  and  that  the  Greek 
authorities  took  no  trouble  to  protect  Pacifi- 
co against  it.  Don  Pacifico  made  a claim 
against  the  Greek  Government  for  compensa- 
tion. He  estimated  his  losses,  direct  and  in- 
direct. at  nearly  thirty-two  thousand  pounds 
sterling.  Another  claim  was  made  at  the 
same  time  by  another  British  subject,  a man 
of  a very  different  stamp  from  Don  Pacifico. 
This  was  Mr.  Finlay,  the  historian  of  Greece. 


Mr.  Finlay  had  gone  out  to  Greece  in  the 
enthusiastic  days  of  Byron  and  Cochrane  and 
Church  and  Hastings ; and  he  settled  in 
Athens  when  the  independence  of  Greece 
had  been  established.  Some  of  his  land  had 
been  taken  for  the  purpose  of  rounding  off 
the  new  palace  gardens  of  King  Otho  ; and 
Mr.  Finlay  had  declined  to  accept  the  terms 
offered  by  (he  Greek  Government,  to  which 
other  landowners  in  the  same  position  as  him- 
self had  assented.  Some  stress  was  laid  by 
Lord  Palmerston's  antagonists  in  the  course 
of  the  debate  on  the  fact  that  Mr.  Finlay  thus 
stood  out  apart  from  other  landowners  in 
Athens.  Mr.  Finlay,  however,  had  a perfect 
right  to  stand  out  fer  any  price  he  thought 
fit.  He  was  in  the  same  position  as  a Greek 
resident  of  London  or  Manchester  whose  land 
is  taken  for  the  purposes  of  a railway  or  other 
public  improvement,  and  who  declines  to  ac- 
cept the  amount  of  compensation  tendered 
for  it  in  the  first  instance.  The  peculiarity 
of  the  case  was  that  Mr.  Finlay  was  not  left, 
as  the  supposed  Greek  gentleman  assuredly 
would  be,  to  make  good  his  claims  for  himself 
in  the  courts  of  law.  Neither  Don  Pacifico 
nor  Mr.  Finlay  had  appealed  to  the  law  courts 
at  all.  But  about  this  time  our  Foreign  Office 
had  had  several  little  complaints  against  the 
Greek  authorities.  We  had  taken  so  consider- 
able a part  in  setting  up  Greece  that  our  min- 
isters not  unnaturally  thought  Greece  ought 
to  show  her  gratitude  by  attending  a little 
more  closely  to  our  advice.  On  the  other 
hand  Lord  Palmerston  had  made  up  his  mind 
that  there  was  constant  intrigue  going  on 
against  our  interests  among  the  foreign  diplo- 
matists in  Athens.  He  "was  convinced  that 
France  was  perpetually  plotting  against  us 
there,  and  that  Russia  was  watching  an  op- 
portunity to  supersede  once  for  all  our  influ- 
ence by  completely  establishing  hers.  Don  Pa- 
cifico’s  sheets,  counterpanes,  and  gold  watch 
had  the  advantage  of  being  made  the  subject 
of  a trial  of  strength  between  England  on  the 
one  side,  and  France  and  Russia  on  the  other. 

There  had  been  other  complaints  as  well. 
Ionian  subjects  of  her  Majesty  had  sent  in 
remonstrances  against  lawless  or  high-handed 
proceedings ; and  a midshipman  of  her 
Majesty’s  ship  Fantome,  landing  from  a boat 
at  night  on  the  shore  of  Patras,  had  been 
arrested  by  mistake.  None  of  these  questions 
would  seem  at  first  sight  to  wear  a very 
grave  international  character.  All  they  needed 
for  settlement,  it  might  be  thought,  was  a 
little  open  discussion  and  the  exercise  of 
some  good  sense  and  moderation  on  both 
sides.  It  cannot  be  doubted  that  the  Greek 
authorities  were  lax  and  careless,  and  that 
acts  had  been  done  which  they  could  not 
justify.  It  is  only  fair  to  say  that  they  do 
not  appear  to  have  tried  to  justify  some  of 
them  ; but  they  were  of  opinion  that  certain 
of  the  claims  were  absurdly  exaggerated,  and 
in  this  belief  they  proved  to  be  well  sus- 
tained. The  Greeks  were  very  poor,  and  also 
very  dilatory  ; and  they  gave  Lord  Palmer- 
ston a reasonable  excuse  for  a little  impa- 
tience. Unluckily  Lord  Palmerston  became 
possessed  with  the  idea  that  the  French  min- 
ister in  Greece  was  secretly  setting  the  Greek 
Government  on  to  resist  our  claims.  For 
the  Foreign  Office  had  made  the  claims  ours. 
They  had  lumped  up  the  outrages  on  Ionian 
seamen,  the  mistaken  arrest  of  the  midship- 
man (who  had  been  released  with  apologies 
the  moment  his  nationality  and  position  were 
discovered),  Mr.  Finlay’s  land,  and  Don 
Pacifico’s  household  furniture  in  one  claim, 
converted  it  into  a national  demand,  and  in- 
sisted that  Greece  must  pay  up  within  a giv- 
en time  or  take  the  consequences.  Greece 
hesitated,  and  accordingly  the  British  fleet 
was  ordered  to  the  Piraeus.  It  made  its  ap- 
pearance very  promptly  there,  and  seized  all 
the  Greek  vessels  belonging  to  the  Govern- 
ment and  to  private  merchants  that  were  found 
w itliin  the  waters. 

The  Greek  Government  appealed  to  France 
and  Russia  as  Powers  joined  with  us  in  the 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


65 


treaty  to  protect  the  independence  of  Greece. 
France  and  Russia  were  both  disposed  to 
make  bitter  complaint  of  not  having  been 
consulted  in  the  first  instance  by  the  British 
Government ; nor  was  their  feeling  greatly 
softened  by  Lord  Palmerston’s  peremptory 
reply  that  it  was  all  a question  between  Eng- 
land and  Greece,  with  which  no  other  Power 
had  any  business  to  interfere.  The  Russian 
Government  wrote  an  angry  and  indeed  an 
offensive  remonstrance.  The  Russian 
Foreign  Minister  spoke  of  “ the  very  painful 
impression  produced  upon  the  mind  of  the 
Emperor  by  the  unexpected  acts  of  violence 
which  the  British  authorities  had  just  di- 
rected against  Greece  and  asked  if  Great 
Britain,  ‘ ‘ abusing  the  advantages  which  are 
afforded  to  her  by  her  immense  maritime 
superiority,”  intended  to  “ disengage  herself 
from  all  obligation, ” and  to  “authorize  all 
Great  Powers  on  every  fitting  opportunity  to 
recognize  towards  the  weak  no  other  rule  but 
their  own  will,  no  other  right  but  their  own 
physical  strength.”  The  French  Govern- 
ment, perhaps  under  the  pressure  of  difficult- 
ies and  uncertain  affairs  at  home,  in  their  un- 
settled state  showed  a better  temper,  and  in- 
tervened only  in  the  interests  of  peace  and 
good  understanding.  Something  like  a friend- 
ly arbitration  was  accepted  from  France, 
and  the  French  Government  sent  a special 
representative  to  Athens  to  try  to  come  to 
terms  with  our  minister  there.  The  difficult- 
ies appeared  likely  to  be  adjusted.  All  the 
claims  except  those  of  Don  Pacifico  were 
matter  of  easy  settlement,  and  at  first  the 
French  commissioner  seemed  even  willing  to 
accept  Don  Pacifico’s  stupendous  valuation 
of  his  household  goods.  But  Pacifico  had 
introduced  other  demands  of  a more  shadowy 
character.  He  said  that  he  had  certain  claims 
on  the  Portuguese  Government,  and  that  the 
papers  on  which  these  claims  rested  for  sup- 
port were  destroyed  in  the  sacking  of  his 
house,  and  therefore  he  felt  entitled  to  ask 
for  2G,(il8£.  as  compensation  on  that  account 
also.  The  French  commissioner  was  a little 
staggered  at  this  demand,  and  declined  to  ac- 
cede to  it  without  further  consideration  ; and 
as  our  minister,  Mr.  Wyse,  did  not  believe 
he  had  any  authority  to  abate  any  of  the  now 
national  demand,  the  negotiation  was  for 
the  time  broken  off.  In  the  meantime,  how- 
ever, negotiations  had  still  been  going  on  be- 
tween the  English  and  French  Governments 
in  London,  and  these  had  resulted  in  a con- 
vention disposing  of  all  the  disputed  claims. 
By  the  terms  of  this  agreement  a sum  of 
eight  thousand  five  hundred  pounds  was  to 
be  paid  by  the  Greek  Government  to  be  di- 
vided among  the  various  claimants ; and 
Greece  was  also  to  pay  whatever  sum  might 
be  found  to  be  fairly  due  on  account  of  Don 
Pacifico’s  Portuguese  claims  after  these  had 
been  investigated  by  arbitrators.  This  would 
seem  a very  satisfactory  and  honorable 
arrangement.  But  some  demon  of  mischief 
appeared  to  have  this  unlucky  affair  in  charge 
from  the  first.  The  two  negotiations  going 
on  in  London  and  Athens  simultaneously  got 
in  each  other’s  way.  Instructions  as  to  what 
had  been  agreed  to  in  London  were  not  for- 
warded to  Athens  quickly  enough  by  the 
English  Government,  and  when  the  French 
Government  sent  out  to  their  commissioner 
the  news  of  the  convention  he  found  that  Mr. 
Wyse  knew  nothing  about  the  matter,  and 
had  no  authority  which,  as  he  conceived, 
would  have  warranted  him  in  departing  from 
the  course  of  action  he  was  following  out. 
Mr.  Wyse,  therefore,  proceeded  with  his 
measures  of  coercion,  and  at  length  the  Greek 
Government  gave  way.  The  convention 
having,  however,  been  made  in  the  meantime 
in  London,  there  then  arose  a question  as  to 
whether  that  convention  or  the  terms  extorted 
at  Athens  should  be  the  basis  of  arrangement. 
Over  this  trumpery  dispute,  which  a few 
words  of  frank  good  sense  and  good  temper 
on  both  sides  would  have  easily  settled,  a new 
quarre2  seemed  at  one  time  likely  to  break 


out  between  England  and  France.  The 
French  Government  actually  withdrew  their 
ambassador,  M.  Drouyn  de  Lhuys,  from 
London  ; and  there  was  for  a short  time  a 
general  alarm  over  Europe.  But  the  ques 
tion  in  dispute  was  really  too  small  and  insig- 
nificant for  any  two  rational  governments  to 
make  it  a cause  of  serious  quarrel ; and  after 
a while  our  Government  gave  way,  and 
agreed  to  an  arrangement  which  was  in  the 
main  all  that  France  desired.  When,  after 
a long  lapse  of  time,  the  arbitrators  came  to 
settle  the  claims  of  Don  Pacifico,  it  was  found 
that  he  was  entitled  to  about  one  thirtieth  of 
the  sum  he  had  originally  demanded.  He 
had  assessed  all  his  claims  on  the  same  liberal 
and  fanciful  scale  as  that  which  he  adopted 
in  estimating  the  value  of  his  household  prop- 
erty. Don  Pacifico,  it  seems,  charged  in  his 
bill  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  sterling  for 
a bedstead,  thirty  pounds  for  the  sheets  of  the 
bed,  twenty-five  pounds  for  two  coverlets, 
and  ten  pounds  for  a pillow-case.  Cleopatra 
might  have  been  contented  with  bed  furniture 
so  luxurious  as  Don  Pacifico  represented 
himself  to  have  in  his  common  use.  The 
jewellery  of  his  wife  and  daughters  he  esti- 
mated at  two  thousand  pounds.  He  gave  no 
vouchers  for  any  of  these  claims,  saying  that 
all  his  papers  had  been  destroyed  by  the 
mob.  It  seemed  too  that  he  had  always  lived 
in  a humble  sort  of  way,  and  was  never  sup- 
posed by  his  neighbors  to  possess  such  splen- 
dor of  ornament  and  household  goods. 

While  the  controversy  between  the  English 
and  French  Governments  was  yet  unfinished, 
a Parliamentary  controversy  between  the 
former  Government  and  the  Opposition  in 
the  House  of  Lords  was  to  begin.  Lord 
Stanley  proposed  a resolution  which  was 
practically  a vote  of  censure  on  the  Govern- 
ment. The  resolution  in  fact  expressed  the 
regret  of  the  House  to  find  that  “ various 
claims  against  the  Greek  Government,  doubt- 
ful in  point  of  justice,  or  exaggerated  in 
amount,  have  been  enforced  by  coercive 
measures,  directed  against  the  commerce  and 
people  of  Greece,  and  calculated  to  endanger 
the  continuance  of  our  friendly  relations  with 
foreign  Powers.”  The  resolution  was  car- 
ried, after  a debate  of  great  spirit  and  en- 
ergy, by  a majority  of  thirty-seven.  Lord 
Palmerston  was  not  dismayed.  A Ministry 
is  seldom  greatly  troubled  by  an  adverse  vote 
in  the  House  of  Lords.  The  Foreign  Secre- 
tary, writing  about  the  result  of  the  division 
the  following  day,  merely  said  : “ We  were 
beaten  last  night  in  the  Lords  by  a larger 
majority  than  we  had,  up  to  the  last  moment, 
expected  ; but  when  we  took  office  we  knew 
that  our  opponents  had  a larger  pack  in  the 
Lords  than  we  had,  and  that  whenever  the 
two  packs  were  to  be  fully  dealt  out,  their 
would  show  a larger  number  than  ours.” 
Still  it  was  necessary  that  something  should 
be  done  in  the  Commons  to  counterbalance 
the  stroke  of  the  Lords,  and  accordingly  Mr. 
Roebuck,  acting  as  an  independent  member, 
although  on  this  occasion  in  harmony  with 
the  Government,  gave  notice  of  a resolution 
which  boldly  affirmed  that  the  principles  on 
which  the  foreign  policy  of  the  Government 
had  been  regulated  were  “ such  as  were  cal- 
culated to  maintain  the  honor  and  dignity  of 
this  country,  and  in  times  of  unexampled 
difficulty  to  preserve  peace  between  England 
and  the  various  nations  of  the  world.”  On 
June  24,  1850,  a night  memorable  in  Parlia- 
mentary annals  as  the  opening  night  of  the 
debate  which  established  Lord  Palmerston’s 
position  as  a great  leader  of  party,  Mr.  Roe- 
buck brought  forward  his  resolution. 

A reader  unaccustomed  to  Parliamentary 
tactics  may  fail  to  observe  the  peculiar 
shrewdness  of  the  resolution.  It  was  framed, 
at  least  it  reads  as  if  it  had  been  framed,  to 
accomplish  one  purpose,  while  professing  to 
serve  another.  It  was  intended,  of  course, 
as  a reply  to  the  censure  of  the  House  of 
Lords.  It  was  to  proclaim  to  the  world  that 
the  Representative  Chamber  had  reversed  the  | 


decision  of  the  House  of  Peers,  and  acquitted 
the  Ministry.  But  what  did  Mr.  Roebuck’s 
resolution  actually  do  ? Did  it  affirm  that  the 
Government  had  acted  rightly  with  regard  to 
Greece  ? The  dealings  with  Greece  were  ex., 
pressly  censured  by  the  House  of  Lords  ; but 
Mr.  Roebuck  proposed  to  affirm  that  the  gen- 
eral policy  of  the  Ministry  deserved  the 
approval  of  the  House  of  Commons.  It  was 
well  known  that  there  were  many  men  of 
Liberal  opinions  in  the  House  of  Commons 
who  did  not  approve  of  the  course  pursued 
with  regard  to  Greece,  but  who  would  yet 
have  been  very  sorry  to  give  a vote  which 
might  contribute  to  the  overthrow  of  a Lib- 
eral Government.  The  resolution  was  so 
framed  as  to  offer  to  all  such  an  opportunity 
of  supporting  the  Government,  and  yet  sat- 
isfying their  consciences.  For  it  might  be 
thus  put  to  them  : “You  think  the  Govern- 
ment were  too  harsh  with  Greece  ? Perhaps 
you  are  right.  But  this  resolution  does  not 
say  that  they  were  quite  free  of  blame  In 
their  way  of  dealing  with  Greece.  It  only 
says  that  their  policy  on  the  whole  has  been 
sound  and  successful ; and  of  course  you 
must  admit  that.  They  may  have  made  a 
little  mistake  with  regard  to  Greece  ; but  ad- 
mitting that,  do  you  not  still  think  that  on 
the  whole  they  have  done  very  well,  and  much 
better  than  any  Tory  Ministry  would  be  likely 
to  do  ? This  is  all  that  Roebuck’s  resolution 
asks  you  to  affirm  ; and  you  really  cannot 
vote  against  it.  ’ ’ 

A large  number  of  Liberals  were  no  doubt 
influenced  by  this  view  of  the  situation,  and 
by  the  framing  of  the  resolution.  But  there 
were  some  who  could  not  be  led  into  any  ap- 
proval of  the  "particular  transaction  which 
the  resolution,  if  not  intended  to  cover, 
would  certainly  be  made  to  cover.  There 
were  others,  too,  who,  even  on  the  broader 
field,  opened  purposely  up  by  the  resolution, 
honestly  believed  that  Lord  Palmerston’s 
general  policy  was  an  incessant  violation  of 
the  principle  of  non-intervention,  and  was 
therefore  injurious  to  the  character  and  the 
safety  of  the  country.  In  a prolonged  and 
powerful  debate  some  of  the  foremost  men 
on  both  sides  of  the  House  opposed  and  de- 
nounced the  policy  of  the  Government,  for 
which,  as  every  one  knew,  Lord  Palmerston 
was  almost  exclusively  responsible.  “ The 
allied  troops  who  led  the  attack,”  says  Mr. 
Evelyn  Ashley,  in  his  life  of  Lord  Palmer- 
ston, “ were  English  Protectionists  and 
foreign  Absolutists.”  It  is  strange  that 
an  able  and  usually  fair-minded  man  should 
be  led  into  such  an  absurdity.  Lord  Palmer- 
ston himself  called  it  “ a shot  fired  by  a foreign 
conspiracy  aided  and  abetted  by  a domestic 
intrigue.”  But  Lord  Palmerston  was  the 
minister  personally  assailed,  and  might  be 
excused,  perhaps,  for  believing  at  the 
moment  that  warring  monarchs  were  giving 
the  fatal  wound,  and  that  the  attack  on  him 
was  the  work  of  the  combined  treachery  of 
Europe.  An  historian  looking  back  upon  the 
events  after  an  interval  of  a quarter  of  a 
century  ought  to  be  able  to  take  a calmer 
view  of  things.  Among  the  “ English  Pro- 
tectionists” who  took  a prominent  part  in 
condemning  the  policy  of  Lord  Palmerston 
were  Mr.  Gladstone,  Mr.  Cobden,  Sir  Robert 
Peel,  Sir  William  Molesworth,  and  Mr.  Sid- 
ney Herbert.  In  the  House  of  Lords,  Lord 
Brougham,  Lord  Canning,  and  Lord  Aber- 
deen had  supported  the  resolution  of  Lord 
Stanley.  The  truth  is  that  Lord  Palmer- 
ston’s proceedings  were  fairly  open  to  differ- 
ence of  judgment  even  on  the  part  of  the 
most  devoted  Liberals  and  the  most  indepen- 
dent thinkers.  It  did  not  need  that  a man 
should  be  a Protectionist  or  an  Absolutist  to 
explain  his  entire  disapproval  of  such  a 
course  of  conduct  as  that  which  had  been 
followed  out  with  regard  to  Greece.  It  seems 
to  us  now,  quietly  looking  back  at  the  whole 
story,  hardly  possible  that  a man  with,  for 
example,  the  temperament  and  the  general 
views  of  Mr.  Gladstone  could  have  approved 


66 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


of  such  a policy  ; obviously  impossible  that 
a man  like  Mr.  Cobden  could  have  approved 
of  it.  These  men  simply  followed  their 
judgment  and  their  conscience. 

The  principal  interest  of  the  debate  now 
rests  in  the  manner  of  Lord  Palmerston’s  de- 
fence. The  speech  was  indeed  a masterpiece 
of  Parliamentary  argument  and  address.  It 
was  in  part  a complete  exposition  and  defence 
of  the  whole  course  of  the  foreign  policy 
which  the  noble  speaker  had  directed.  But 
although  the  resolution  treated  only  of  the 
general  policy  of  the  Government,  Lord  Pal- 
merston did  not  fail  to  make  a special  de- 
fence of  his  action  towards  Greece.  He  based 
his  vindication  of  this  particular  chapter  of 
his  policy  on  the  ground  which,  of  all  others, 

fave  him  most  advantage  in  addressing  a 
'arliamentary  assembly.  He  contended  that 
in  all  he  had  done  he  had  been  actuated  by 
the  resolve  that  the  poorest  claimant  who 
bore  the  name  of  an  English  citizen  should 
be  protected  by  the  whole  strength  of  Eng- 
land against  the  oppression  of  a foreign  gov- 
ernment. His  speech  was  an  appeal  to  all 
the  elementary  emotions  of  manhood  and  cit- 
izenship and  good-fellowship.  To  vote 
against  him  seemed  to  be  to  declare  that  Eng- 
land was  unable  or  unwilling  to  protect  her 
children.  A man  appeared  to  be  guilty  of 
an  unpatriotic  and  ignoble  act  who  censured 
the  minister  whose  only  error,  if  error  it  were, 
was  a too  proud  and  generous  resolve  to 
make  the  name  of  England  and  the  rights  of 
Englishmen  respected  throughout  the  world. 
A good  deal  of  ridicule  had  been  heaped  not 
unnaturally  on  Don  Pacifico,  his  claims,  his 
career,  and  his  costly  bed  furniture.  Lord 
Palmerston  turned  that  very  ridicule  to  good 
account  for  his  own  cause.  He  repelled  with 
a warmth  of  seemingly  generous  indignation 
the  suggestion  that  because  a man  was  lowly, 
pitiful,  even  ridiculous,  even  of  doubtful  con- 
duct in  his  earlier  career,  therefore  he  was 
one  with  whom  a foreign  government  was 
not  bound  to  observe  any  principles  of  fair 
dealing  at  all.  He  protested  against  having 
serious  things  treated  jocosely  ; as  if  any  man 
in  Parliament  had  ever  treated  serious  things 
more  often  in  a jocose  spirit.  He  protested 
against  having  the  House  kept  “ in  a roar  of 
laughter  at  the  poverty  of  one  sufferer,  or  at 
the  miserable  habitation  of  another  ; at  the 
nationality  of  one  man,  or  the  religion  of  an- 
other ; as  if  because  a man  was  poor  he 
might  be  bastinadoed  and  tortured  with  im- 
punity, as  if  a man  who  was  born  in  Scotland 
might  be  robbed  without  redress,  or  because 
a man  is  of  the  Jewish  persuasion  he  is  a fair 
mark  for  any  outrage.”  Lord  Palmerston 
had  also  a great  advantage  given  to  him  by  the 
argument  of  some  of  his  opponents,  that 
whatever  the  laws  of  a foreign  country,  a 
stranger  has  only  to  abide  by  them,  and  that 
a government  claiming  redress  for  any  wrong 
done  to  one  of  its  subjects  is  completely  an- 
swered by  the  statement  that  he  has  suffered 
only  as  inhabitants  of  the  country  themselves 
have  suffered.  The  argument  against  Lord 
Palmerston  was  pushed  entirely  too  far  in 
this  instance,  and  it  gave  him  one  of  his 
finest  opportunities  for  reply.  It  is  true  as  a 
general  rule  in  the  intercourse  of  nations, 
that  a stranger  who  goes  voluntarily  into  a 
country  is  expected  to  abide  by  its  laws,  and 
that  his  government  will  not  protect  him 
from  their  ordinary  operation  in  every  case 
where  it  may  seem  to  press  hardly  or  even 
unfairly  against  him.  But  in  this  under- 
standing is  always  involved  a distinct  as- 
sumption that  the  laws  of  the  State  are  to  be 
such  as  civilization  would  properly  recognize, 
supposing  that  the  State  in  question  profess- 
es to  be  a civilized  State.  It  is  also  distinct- 
ly assumed  that  the  State  must  be  able  and 
willing  to  enforce  its  own  laws  where  they 
are  fairly  invoked  on  behalf  of  a foreigner. 
If,  for  instance,  a foreigner  has  a just  claim 
against  some  continental  government,  and 
that  government  will  not  recognize  the  claim, 
or  recognizing  it  will  not  satisfy  it,  and  the 


government  of  the  injured  man  intervenes 
and  asks  that  his  claim  shall  be  met — it 
would  never  be  accounted  a sufficient  answer 
to  say  that  many  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
country  had  been  treated  just  in  the  same 
way,  and  had  got  no  redress.  If  there  were 
a law  in  Turkey,  or  any  other  slave-owning 
State,  that  a man  who  could  not  pay  his  debts 
was  liable  to  have  his  wife  and  daughter  sold 
into  slavery,  it  is  certain  that  no  government 
like  that  of  England  would  hear  of  the  appli- 
cation of  such  a law  to  the  family  of  a poor 
English  trader  settled  in  Constantinople. 
There  is  no  clear  rule  easy  to  be  laid  down  ; 
perhaps  there  can  be  no  clear  rule  on  the 
subject  at  all.  But  it  is  evident  that  the  gov- 
ernments of  all  civilized  countries  do  exercise 
a certain  protectorate  over  their  subjects  in 
foreign  countries,  and  do  insist  in  extreme 
cases  that  the  laws  of  the  country  shall  nor 
be  applied  or  denied  to  them  in  a mannet 
which  a native  resident  might  think  himself 
compelled  to  endure  without  protest.  It  is 
not  even  so  in  the  case  of  manifestly  harsh 
and  barbarous  laws  alone,  or  of  the  denial  of 
justice  in  a harsh  and  barbarous  way.  The 
principle  prevails  even  in  regard  to  laws 
which  are  in  themselves  unexceptionable  and 
necessary.  No  government,  for  example, 
will  allow  one  of  its  subjects  living  in  a for- 
ign  country  to  be  brought  under  the  law  for 
the  levying  of  the  conscription  there,  and 
compelled  to  serve  in  the  army  of  the  foreign 
State. 

All  this  only  shows  that  the  opponents  of 
Lord  Palmerston  made  a mistake  when  they 
endeavored  to  obtain  any  general  assent  to 
the  principle  that  a minister  does  wrong  who 
asks  for  his  fellow-subjects  at  the  hands  of  a 
foreign  government  any  better  treatment  than 
that  which  the  government  in  question  ad- 
ministers, and  without  revolt,  to  its  own  peo- 
ple. Lord  Palmerston  was  not  the  man  to 
lose  so  splendid  an  opportunity.  He  really 
made  it  appear  as  if  the  question  between 
him  and  his  opponents  was  that  of  the  pro- 
tection of  Englishmen  abroad  ; as  if  he  were 
anxious  to  look  after  their  lives  and  safety, 
while  his  opponents  were  urging  the  odious 
principle  that  when  once  an  Englishman  put 
his  foot  on  a foreign  shore  his  own  govern- 
ment renounced  all  intent  to  concern  them- 
selves with  any  fate  that  might  befall  him. 
Here  was  a new  turn  given  to  the  debate,  a 
new  opportunity  afforded  to  those  who, 
while  they  did  not  approve  exactly  of  what 
had  been  done  with  Greece,  were  neverthe- 
less anxious  to  support  the  general  principles 
of  Lord  Palmerston’s  foreign  policy.  The 
speech  was  a marvellous  appeal  to  what  are 
called  “ English  interests.”  In  a peroration 
of  thrilling  power  Lord  Palmerston  asked  for 
the  verdict  of  the  House  to  decide  “ whether, 
as  the  Roman  in  days  of  old  held  himself 
free  from  indignity  when  he  could  say  ‘ Civis 
Romanus  sum,  ’ so  also  a British  subject,  in 
whatever  land  he  may  be,  shall  feel  confident 
that  the  watchful  eye  and  the  strong  arm  of 
England  will  protect  him  against  injustice 
and  wrong.” 

When  Lord  Palmerston  closed  his  speech 
the  overwhelming  plaudits  of  the  House  fore- 
told the  victory  he  had  won.  It  was  indeed 
a masterpiece  of  telling  defence.  The  speech 
occupied  some  five  hours  in  delivery.  It  was 
spoken,  as  Mr.  Gladstone  afterwards  said, 
from  the  dusk  of  one  day  to  the  dawn  of  the 
next.  It  was  spoken  without  the  help  of  a 
single  note.  Lord  Palmerston  always  wisely 
thought  that  in  order  to  have  full  command 
of  such  an  audience  a man  should,  if  possi- 
ble, never  use  notes.  He  was  quite  con- 
scious of  his  own  lack  of  the  higher  gifts  of 
imagination  and  emotion  that  make  the  great 
orator  ; but  he  knew  also  what  a splendid 
weapon  of  attack  and  defence  was  his  fluen- 
cy and  readiness,  and  he  was  not  willing  to 
weaken  the  effect  of  its  spontaneity  by  the 
interposition  of  a single  note.  All  this  great 
speech,  therefore,  full  as  it  w7as  of  minute 
details,  names,  dates,  figures,  references  of 


all  kinds,  was  delivered  with  the  same  facil- 
ity, the  same  lack  of  effort,  the  same  absence 
of  any  adventitious  aids  to  memory  which 
characterized  Palmerston’s  ordinary  style 
when  he  answered  a simple  question.  Nothing 
could  be  more  complete  than  Palmerston’s  suc- 
cess. “ Civis  Romanus”  settled  the  matter. 
Who  was  in  the  House  of  Commons  so  rude 
that  would  not  be  a Roman  ? Who  was  there 
so  lacking  in  patriotic  spirit  that  would  not 
have  his  countrymen  as  good  as  any  Roman 
citizen  of  them  all  ? It  was  to  little  purpose 
that  Mr.  Gladstone,  in  a speech  of  singular 
argumentative  power,  pointed  out  that  ‘‘a 
Roman  citizen  was  the  member  of  a privileg- 
ed caste,  of  a victorious  and  conquering  na- 
tion, of  a nation  that  held  all  others  bound 
down  by  the  strong  arm  of  power — which 
had  one  law  for  him  and  another  for  the  rest 
of  the  world,  which  asserted  in  his  favor 
principles  which  it  denied  to  all  others.”  It 
was  in  vain  that  Mr.  Gladstone  asked 
whether  Lord  Palmerston  thought  that  was 
the  position  which  it  would  become  a civil- 
ized and  Christian  nation  like  England  to 
claim  for  her  citizens.  The  glory  of  being  a 
“ Civis  Romanus”  was  far  too  strong  for  any 
mere  argument  drawn  from  fact  and  com- 
mon sense  to  combat  against  it.  The  phrase 
had  carried  the  day.  When  Mr.  Cockburn, 
in  supporting  Lord  Palmerston’s  policy, 
quoted  from  classical  authority  to  show  that 
the  Romans  had  always  avenged  any  wrongs 
done  to  their  citizens,  and  cited  the  words 
“ Quot  cives  Romani  injuria  affecti  sunt,  na- 
vicularii  retenti,  mercatores  spoliati  esse  dic- 
erentur,”  the  House  cheered  more  tumultu- 
ously than  ever.  In  vain  was  the  calm, 
grave,  studiously  moderate  remonstrance  of 
Sir  Robert  Peel,  who,  while  generously  de- 
claring that  Palmerston’s  speech  “ made  us 
all  proud  of  the  man  who  delivered  it,”  yet 
recorded  his  firm  protest  against  the  style  of 
policy  which  Palmerston’s  eloquence  had  en- 
deavored to  glorify.  The  victory  was  all 
with  Palmerston.  He  had,  in  the  words  of 
Shakespeare’s  Rosalind,  wrestled  well  and 
overthrown  more  than  his  enemies. 

After  a debate  of  four  nights,  a majority 
of  forty-six  was  given  for  the  resolution. 
The  Ministry  came  out  not  only  absolved  but 
triumphant.  The  odd  thing  about  the  whole 
proceeding  is  that  the  ministers  in  general 
heartily  disapproved  of  the  sort  of  policy 
which  Palmerston  put  so  energetically  into 
action — at  least  they  disapproved,  if  not  his 
principles,  yet  certainly  his  way  of  enforcing 
them.  Before  this  debate  came  on,  Lord 
John  Russell  had  made  up  his  mind  that  it 
would  be  impossible  for  him  to  remain  in 
office  with  Lord  Palmerston  as  Foreign  Sec- 
retary. None  the  less,  however,  did  Lord 
John  Russell  defend  the  policy  of  the  For- 
eign Office  in  a speech  which  Palmerston  him- 
self described  as  “ admirable  and  first-rate.” 
The  ministers  felt  bound  to  stand  by  the  ac- 
tions which  they  had  not  repudiated  at  the 
time  when  they  were  done.  They  could  not 
allow  Lord  Palmerston  to  be  separated  from 
them  in  political  responsibility  when  they 
had  not  separated  themselves  from  moral  re- 
sponsibility for  his  proceedings  in  time. 
Therefore  they  had  to  defend  in  Parliament 
what  they  did  not  pretend  to  approve  in  pri- 
vate. The  theory  of  a Cabinet  always  unit- 
ed when  attacked  rendered  doubtless  such  a 
course  of  proceeding  necessary  in  Parlia- 
mentary tactics.  It  would,  perhaps,  be  hard 
to  make  it  seem  quite  satisfactory  to  the  sim- 
ple and  unsophisticated  mind.  No  part  of 
our  duty  calls  on  us  to  attempt  such  a task. 
It  was  a famous  vict®ry — we  must  only  settle 
the  question  as  old  Caspar  disposed  of  the 
doubts  about  the  propriety  of  the  praise 
given  to  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  and  ‘ ‘ our 
good  Prince  Eugene.  ” “ It  is  not  telling  a 

lie,”  says  some  one  in  Thackeray,  “ it  is  only 
voting  with  your  party.”  But  Thackeray 
had  never  been  in  the  House  of  Commons.” 

Of  many  fine  speeches  made  during  this 
brilliant  debate  we  must  notice  one  in  partic- 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


67 


ular.  It  was  that  of  Mr.  Cockburn,  then 
member  for  Southampton — a speech  to  which 
allusion  has  already  been  made.  Never  in 
our  time  has  a reputation  been  more  sudden- 
ly, completely,  and  deservedly  made  than  Mr. 
Cockburn  won  by  his  brilliant  display  of 
ingenious  argument  and  stirring  words.  The 
manner  of  the  speaker  lent  additional  effect 
to  his  clever  and  captivating  eloquence.  He 
had  a clear,  sweet,  penetrating  voice,  a flu- 
ency that  seemed  so  easy  as  to  make  listeners 
sometimes  fancy  that  it  ought  to  cost  no 
effort,  and  a grace  of  gesture  such  as  it  must 
be  owned  the  courts  of  law  where  he  had 
had  his  training  do  not  often  teach.  Mr. 
Cockburn  defended  the  policy  of  Palmerston 
with  an  effect  only  inferior  to  that  produced 
by  Palmerston’s  own  speech,  and  with  a 
rhetorical  grace  and  finish  to  which  Palmer- 
ston made  no  pretension.  In  writing  to  Lord 
Normanby  about  the  debate,  Lord  Palmer- 
ston distributed  his  praise  to  friends  and  en- 
emies with  that  generous  impartiality  which 
was  a fine  part  of  his  character.  Gladstone’s 
attack  on  his  policy  he  pronounced  “ a first- 
rate  performance.”  Peel  and  Disraeli  he 
praised  likewise.  But  “ as  to  Cockburn's,”  he 
said,  “I  do  not  know  that  I ever  in  the 
course  of  my  life  heard  a better  speech,  from 
anybody,  without  any  exception.”  The 
effect  which  Cockburn’s  speech  produced  on 
the  House  was  well  described  in  the  House 
itself  by  one  who  rose  chiefly  for  the  pur- 
pose of  disputing  the  principles  it  advocated. 
Mr.  Cobden  observed  that  when  Mr.  Cock- 
burn had  concluded  his  speech,  “ one  half  of 
the  Treasury  benches  were  left  empty  while 
honorable  members  ran  after  one  another, 
tumbling  over  each  other  in  their  haste  to 
shake  hands  with  the  honorable  and  learned 
member.”  Mr.  Cockburn’s  career  was  safe 
from  that  hour.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  he 
well  upheld  in  after  years  the  reputation  he 
won  in  a night.  The  brilliant  and  sudden 
success  of  the  member  for  Southampton  was 
but  the  fitting  prelude  to  the  abiding  distinc- 
tion won  by  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  of  Eng- 
land. 

One  association  of  profound  melancholy 
clings  to  that  great  debate.  The  speech  de- 
livered by  Sir  Robert  Peel  was  the  last  that 
was  destined  to  come  from  his  lips.  The 
debate  closed  on  the  morning  of  Saturday, 
June  29.  It  was  nearly  four  o’clock  when 
the  division  was  taken,  and  Peel  left  the 
house  as  the  sunlight  was  already  beginning 
to  stream  into  the  corridors  and  lobbies.  He 
went  home  to  rest ; but  his  sleep  could  not 
be  long.  He  had  to  attend  a meeting  of  the 
Royal  Commissioners  of  the  Great  Industrial 
Exhibition  at  twelve,  and  the  meeting  was 
important.  The  site  of  the  building  had  to 
be  decided  upon,  and  Prince  Albert  and  the 
Commissioners  generally  relied  greatly  on  the 
influence  of  Sir  Robert  Peel  to  sustain  them 
against  the  clamorous  objection  out  of  doors 
to  the  choice  of  a place  in  Hyde  Park.  Peel 
went  to  the  meeting  and  undertook  to  assume 
the  leading  part  in  defending  the  decision  of 
the  Commissioners  before  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. He  returned  home  for  a short  time 
after  the  meeting,  and  then  set  out  for  a ride 
in  the  Park.  He  called  at  Buckingham  Pal- 
ace and  wrote  his  name  in  the  Queen’s  visit- 
ing-book. Then  as  he  was  riding  up  Con- 
stitution Hill  he  stopped  to  talk  to  a young 
lady,  a friend  of  his,  who  was  also  riding. 
His  horse  suddenly  shied  and  flung  him  off ; 
and  Peel  clinging  to  the  bridle,  the  animal  fell 
with  its  knees  on  his  shoulders.  The  inju- 
ries which  he  received  proved  beyond  all  skill 
of  surgery.  He  lingered,  now  conscious,  now 
delirious  with  pain,  for  two  or  three  days  ; 
and  he  died  about  eleven  o’clock  on  the 
night  of  July  2.  Most  of  the  members  of  his 
family  and  some  of  his  dearest  old  friends  and 
companions  in  political  arms  were  beside 
him  when  he  died.  The  tears  of  the  Duke 
of  Wellington  in  one  House  of  Parliament, 
and  the  eloquence  of  Mr.  Gladstone  in  the 
other,  were  expressions  as  fitting  and  ade- 


quate as  might  be  of  the  universal  feeling  of 
the  nation. 

There  was  no  honor  which  Parliament  and 
the  country  would  not  willingly  have  paid  to 
the  memory  of  Peel.  Lord  John  Russell 
proposed  with  the  sanction  of  the  Crown 
that  his  remains  should  be  buried  with  pub- 
lic honors.  But  Peel  had  distinctly  declared 
in  his  will  that  lie  desired  his  remains  to  lie 
beside  those  of  his  father  and  mother  in  the 
family  vault  at  Drayton  Bassett.  All  that 
Parliament  and  the  country  could  do  there- 
fore was  to  decree  a monument  to  him  in 
Westminster  Abbey.  The  offer  of  a peerage 
was  made  to  Lady  Peel,  but,  as  might  per- 
haps have  been  expected,  it  was  declined. 
Lady  Peel  declared  that  her  own  desire  was 
to  bear  no  other  name  than  that  by  which 
her  husband  had  been  known.  She  also  ex- 
plained that  the  express  wish  of  her  hus- 
band, recorded  in  his  will,  was  that  no  mem- 
ber of  his  family  should  accept  any  title  or 
other  reward  on  account  of  any  services  Peel 
might  have  rendered  to  his  country.  No  de- 
sire could  have  been  more  honorable  to  the 
statesman  who  had  formed  and  expressed  it ; 
none  certainly  more  in  keeping  with  all  that 
was  known  of  the  severely  unselfish  and  un- 
ostentatious character  of  Sir  Robert  Peel. 
Yet  there  were  persons  found  to  misconstrue 
his  meaning  and  to  discover  offence  to  the 
order  of  aristocracy  in  Peel’s  determination. 
A report  went  about  that  the  great  states- 
man’s objection  to  the  acceptance  of  a peer- 
age by  one  of  his  family  implied  a disparage- 
ment of  the  order  of  peers,  and  was  founded 
on  feelings  of  contempt  or  hostility  to  the 
House  of  Lords.  Mr.  Goulburn,  who  was 
one  of  Peel’s  executors,  easily  explained 
Peel’s  meaning,  if  indeed  it  needed  explana- 
tion to  any  reasonable  mind.  Peel  was  im- 
pressed with  the  conviction  that  it  was  better 
for  a man  to  be  the  son  of  his  own  works  ; 
and  he  desired  that  his  sons,  if  they  were  to 
bear  titles  and  distinctions  given  them  by  the 
State,  should  win  them  by  their  own  services 
and  worth,  and  not  simply  put  them  on  as 
an  inheritance  from  their  father.  As  regards 
himself,  it  may  well  be  that  he  thought  the 
name  under  which  he  had  made  his  reputa- 
tion became  him  better  than  any  new  title. 
He  had  not  looked  for  reward  of  that  kind, 
and  might  well  prefer  to  mark  the  fact  that 
he  did  not  specially  value  such  distinctions. 
Nor  would  it  be  any  disparagement  to  the 
peerage — a thing  which  in  the  case  of  a man 
with  Peel’s  opinions  is  utterly  out  of  the 
question — to  think  that  much  of  the  dignity 
of  a title  depends  on  its  long  descent  and  its 
historic  record,  and  that  a fire-new,  specially 
invented  title  to  a man  already  great  is  a dis- 
figurement, or  at  least  a disguise,  rather  than 
an  adornment.  When  titles  were  abolished 
during  the  great  French  Revolution,  Mira- 
beau  complained  of  being  called  “ Citizen 
Riquetti”  in  the  official  reports  of  the  As- 
sembly. ‘‘With  your  Riquetti,”  he  said  an- 
grily, ‘‘you  have  puzzled  all  Europe  for 
days.”  Europe  knew  Count  Mirabeau,  but 
was  for  some  time  bewildered  by  Citizen  Ri- 
quetti. Sir  Robert  Peel  may  well  have  ob- 
jected to  a reversal  of  the  process,  and  to  the 
bewildering  of  Europe  by  disguising  a famous 
citizen  in  a new  peerage. 

“ Peel’s  death,”  Lord  Palmerston  wrote  to 
his  brother  a few  days  after,  putting  the  re- 
mark at  the  close  of  a long  letter  about  the 
recent  victory  of  the  Government  and  the 
congratulations  he  had  personally  received, 

“ is  a great  calamity,  and  one  that  seems  to 
have  had  no  adequate  cause.  He  was  a very 
bad  and  awkward  rider,  and  his  horse  might 
have  been  sat  by  any  better  equestrian  ; but 
he  seems  somehow  or  other  to  have  been  en- 
tangled in  the  bridle,  and  to  have  pulled  the 
horse  to  step  or  kneel  upon  him.  The  in- 
jury to  the  shoulder  was  severe  but  curable  ; 
that  which  killed  him  was  a broken  rib  forc- 
ed with  great  violence  inwards  into  the 
lungs.”  The  cause  of  Peel’s  death  would 
certainly  not  have  been  adequate,  as  Lord 


Palmerston  put  it,  if  great  men  needed  pro- 
digious and  portentous  events  to  bring  about 
their  end.  But  the  stumble  of  a horse  has 
been  found  enough  in  other  instances  too. 
Peel  seemed  destined  for  great  things  yet 
when  he  died.  He  was  but  in  his  sixty-third 
year  ; he  was  some  years  younger  than  Lord 
Palmerson,  who  may  be  said  without  exag- 
geration to  have  just  achieved  his  first  great 
success.  Many  circumstances  were  pointing 
to  Peel  as  likely  before  long  to  be  summoned 
again  to  the  leadership  in  the  government  of 
the  country.  It  is  superfluous  to  say  that  his 
faculties  as  Parliamentary  orator  or  states- 
man were  not  showing  any  signs  of  decay. 
An  English  public  man  is  not  supposed  to 
show  signs  of  decaying  faculties  at  sixty- 
two.  The  shying  horse  and  perhaps  the  bad 
ridership  settled  the  question  of  Peel’s  career 
between  them.  W e have  already  endeavored 
to  estimate  that  career  and  to  do  justice  to 
Peel’s  great  qualities.  He  was  not  a man  of 
original  genius,  but  he  was  one  of  the  best 
administrators  of  other  men’s  ideas  that  ever 
knew  how  and  when  to  leave  a party  and  to 
serve  a country.  He  was  never  tried  by  the 
severe  tests  which  tell  whether  a man  is  a 
statesman  of  the  highest  order.  He  was 
never  tried  as  Cavour,  for  example,  was 
tried,  by  conditions  which  placed  the  national 
existence  of  his  country  in  jeopardy.  He 
had  no  such  trials  to  encounter  as  were  forc- 
ed on  Pitt.  He  was  the  minister  of  a coun- 
try always  peaceful,  safe,  and  prosperous. 
But  he  was  called  upon  at  a trying  moment 
to  take  a step  on  which  assuredly  much  of 
the  prosperity  of  the  people  and  nearly  all 
the  hopes  of  his  party  along  with  his  own 
personal  reputation  were  imperilled.  He 
did  not  want  courage  to  take  the  step,  and 
he  had  the  judgment  to  take  it  at  the  right 
time.  He  bore  the  reproaches  of  that  which 
had  been  liis  party  with  dignity  and  compos- 
ure. He  was  undoubtedly,  as  Lord  Bea- 
consfield  calls  him,  a great  member  of  Parlia- 
ment ; but  he  was  surely  also  a great  minis- 
ter. Perhaps  he  only  needed  a profounder 
trial  at  the  hands  of  fate  to  have  earned  the 
title  of  a great  man. 

To  the  same  year  belongs  the  close  of 
another  remarkable  career.  On  August  26, 
1850,  Louis  Philippe,  lately  King  of  the 
French,  died  at  Claremont,  the  guest  of  Eng- 
land. Few  men  in  history  had  gone  through 
greater  reverses.  Son  of  Philippe  Egalite, 
brought  up  in  a sort  of  blending  of  luxury 
and  scholastic  self-denial,  under  the  contrast- 
ing influence  of  his  father  and  of  his  teacher, 
Madame  de  Genlis,  a woman  full  at  least  of 
virtuous  precept  and  Rousseau-like  profes- 
sion, he  showed  great  force  of  character  dur- 
ing the  Revolution.  He  still  regarded  France 
as  his  country,  though  she  no  longer  gave  a 
throne  to  any  of  his  family.  He  had  fought 
like  a brave  young  soldier  at  Valmy  and 
Jemappes.  ‘‘  Egalite.  Fils,”  says  Carlyle, 
speaking  of  the  young  man  at  Valmy — 
“ Equality  Junior,  alight,  gallant  field-oflicer, 
distinguished  himself  by  intrepidity — it  is  the 
same  intrepid  individual  who  now,  as  Louis 
Philippe,  without  the  Equality,  struggles  un- 
der sad  circumstances  to  be  called  King  of 
the  French  for  a season.”  It  is  he  who,  as 
Carlyle  also  describes  it,  saves  his  sister  with 
such  spirit  and  energy  when  Madame  de 
Genlis  with  all  her  fine  precepts  would  have 
left  her  behind  to  whatever  danger.  “ Be- 
hold the  young  Princely  Brother,  struggling 
hitherward,  hastily  calling ; bearing  the 
Princess  in  his  arms.  Hastily  lie  has  clutched 
the  poor  young  lady  up,  in  her  very  night- 
gown, nothing  saved  of  her  goods  except  the 
watch  from  the  pillow  ; with  brotherly  de- 
spair  he  flings  her  in,  among  the  bandboxes, 
into  Genlis’s  chaise,  into  Genlis’s  arms.  . . . 
The  brave  young  Egalite  has  a most  wild 
morrow  to  look  for  ; but  now  only  himself 
to  carry  through  it.”  The  brave  young 
Egalite  had  indeed  a wild  time  before  him. 
A wanderer,  an  exile,  a fugitive,  a teacher  in 
Swiss  and  American  schools  ; bearing  many 


68 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


and  various  names  as  he  turned  to  many  call- 
ings and  saw  many  lands,  always  perhaps 
keeping  in  mind  that  Danton  had  laid  his 
great  hand  upon  his  head  and  declared  that 
the  boy  must  one  day  be  King  of  France. 
Then  in  the  whirligig  of  time  the  opportunity 
that  long  might  have  seemed  impossible 
came  round  at  last ; and  the  soldier,  exile, 
college  teacher,  wanderer  among  American 
Indian  tribes,  resident  of  Philadelphia,  and 
of  Bloomingdale  in  the  New  York  suburbs, 
is  King  of  the  French.  Well  had  Carlyle 
gauged  his  position  after  some  years  of  reign 
when  he  described  him  “ as  struggling  under 
sad  circumstances  to  be  called  King  of  the 
French  for  a season.”  He  ought  to  have 
been  a great  man  ; he  had  had  a great  train- 
ing. All  his  promise  as  a man  faded  when  his 
seeming  success  began  to  shine.  He  had  ap- 
parently learned  nothing  of  adversity  ; he 
was  able  to  learn  nothing  of  prosperity  and 
greatness.  Of  all  men  whom  his  time  had 
tried,  he  ought  best  to  have  known,  one  might 
think,  the  vanity  of  human  schemes,  and  the 
futility  of  trying  to  uphold  thrones  on  false 
principles.  He  intrigued  for  power  as  if  his 
previous  experience  had  taught  him  that 
power  once  obtained  was  inalienable.  He 
seemed  at  one  time  to  have  no  real  faith  in 
any  thing  but  chicane.  He  made  the  fairest 
professions  and  did  the  meanest,  falsest 
things.  He  talked  to  Queen  Victoria  in  lan- 
guage that  might  have  brought  tears  into  a 
father’s  eyes  ; and  he  was  all  the  time  plan- 
ning the  detestable  juggle  of  the  Spanish 
marriages.  He  did  not  even  seem  to  retain 
the  courage  of  his  youth.  It  went  apparently 
with  whatever  of  true,  unselfish  principle  he 
had  when  he  was  yet  a young  soldier  of  the 
Republic.  He  was  like  our  own  James  II., 
who  as  a youth  extorted  the  praise  of  the 
great  Turenne  for  his  bravery,  and  as  a king 
earned  the  scorn  of  the  world  for  his  pusil- 
lanimous imbecility.  Some  people  say  that 
there  remained  a gleam  of  perverted  principle 
in  Louis  Philippe  which  broke  out  just  at  the 
close,  and  unluckily  for  him  exactly  at  the 
wrong  time.  It  is  asserted  that  he  could 
have  put  down  the  movement  of  1848  in  the 
beginning  with  one  decisive  word.  Certainly 
those  who  began  that  movement  were  as  little 
prepared  as  he  for  its  turning  out  a revolu- 
tion. It  is  generally  assumed  that  he  halted 
and  dallied  and  refused  to  give  the  word  of 
command  out  of  sheer  weakness  of  mind  and 
lack  of  courage.  But  the  assumption  ac- 
cording to  some  is  unjust.  Their  theory  is 
that  Louis  Philippe  at  that  moment  of  crisis 
was  seized  with  a conscientious  scruple,  and 
believed  that  having  been  called  to  power  by 
the  choice  of  the  people — called  to  rule  not  as 
King  of  France,  but  as  King  of  the  French  ; 
as  King,  that  is  to  say,  of  the  French  people 
so  long  as  they  chose  to  have  him — he  was 
not  authorized  to  maintain  himself  on  that 
throne  by  force.  The  feeling  would  have 
been  just  and  right  if  it  were  certain  that  the 
French  people,  or  any  majority  of  the  French 
people,  really  wished  him  away,  and  were 
prepared  to  welcome  a republic.  But  it  was 
hardly  fair  to  those  who  set  him  on  the 
throne  to  assume  at  once  that  he  was  bound 
to  come  down  from  it  at  the  bidding  of  no 
matter  whom,  how  few  or  how  many,  and 
without  in  some  way  trying  conclusions  to 
see  if  it  were  the  voice  of  France  that  sum- 
moned him  to  descend,  or  only  the  outcry  of 
a moment  and  a crowd.  The  scruple,  if  it 
existed,  lost  the  throne  ; in  which  we  are  far 
from  saying  that  France  suffered  any  great 
loss.  We  are  bound  to  say  that  M.  Thiers, 
who  ought  to  have  known,  does  not  seem  to 
have  believed  in  the  operation  of  any  scruple 
of  the  kind,  and  ascribes  the  King’s  fall  sim- 
ply to  blundering  and  to  bad  advice.  But  it 
would  have  been  curiously  illustrative  of  the 
odd  contradictions  of  human  nature,  and  es- 
pecially curious  as  illustrating  that  one  very 
odd  and  mixed  nature,  if  Louis  Philippe  had 
really  felt  such  a scruple  and  yielded  to  it. 
He  had  carried  out  with  full  deliberation  and 


in  spite  of  all  remonstrances  schemes  which 
tore  asunder  human  lives,  blighted  human 
happiness,  played  at  dice  with  the  destinies 
of  whole  nations,  and  might  have  involved 
all  Europe  in  war,  and  it  does  not  seem  that 
he  ever  felt  one  twinge  of  scruple  or  acknowl- 
edged one  pang  of  remorse.  His  policy  had 
been  unutterably  mean  and  selfish  and  deceit- 
ful. His  very  bourgeois  virtues,  on  which  he 
was  so  much  inclined  to  boast  himself,  had 
been  a sham  ; for  he  had  carried  out  schemes 
which  defied  and  flouted  the  first  principles 
of  human  virtue,  and  made  as  light  of  the 
honor  of  woman  as  of  the  integrity  of  man. 
It  would  humor  the  irony  of  fate  if  he  had 
sacrificed  his  crown  to  a scruple  which  a 
man  of  really  high  principle  would  well  have 
felt  justified  in  banishing  from  his  mind. 
One  is  reminded  of  the  daughter  of  Macklin, 
the  famous  actor,  who  having  made  her  suc- 
cess on  the  stage  by  appearing  constantly  in 
pieces  which  compelled  the  most  liberal  dis- 
play of  form  and  limbs  to  all  the  house  and 
all  the  town,  died  of  a slight  injury  to  her 
knee,  which  she  allowed  to  grow  mortal  rather 
than  permit  any  doctor  to  look  at  the  suffer- 
ing place.  In  Louis  Philippe’s  case,  too,  the 
scruple  would  show  so  oddly  that  even  the 
sacrifice  it  entailed  could  scarcely  make  us 
regard  it  with  respect. 

He  died  in  exile  among  us,  the  clever,  un- 
wise, grand,  mean  old  man.  There  was  a 
great  deal  about  him  which  made  him  re- 
spected in  private  life,  and  when  he  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  state  intrigues  and  the  foreign 
policy  of  courts.  He  was  much  liked  in  Eng- 
land, where  for  many  years  after  his  sons 
lived.  But  there  were  Englishmen  who  did 
not  like  him  and  did  not  readily  forgive  him. 
One  of  these  was  Lord  Palmerston.  Lord 
Palmerston  wrote  to  his  brother  a few  days 
after  the  death  of  Louis  Philippe,  expressing 
his  sentiments  thereupon  with  the  utmost 
directness.  “ The  death  of  Louis  Philippe,” 
he  said,  ‘‘delivers  me  from  my  most  artful 
and  inveterate  enemy,  whose  position  gave 
him  in  many  ways  the  power  to  injure  me.” 
Louis  Philippe  always  detested  Lord  Palmer- 
ston, and,  according  to  Thiers,  was  constantly 
saying  witty  and  spiteful  things  of  the  Eng- 
lish Minister,  which  good-natured  friends  as 
constantly  brought  to  Palmerston’s  ears. 
When  Lord  Palmerston  did  not  feel  exactly 
as  a good  Christian  ought  to  have  felt,  he  at 
least  never  pretended  to  any  such  feeling. 
The  same  letter  contains  immediately  after  a 
reference  to  Sir  Robert  Peel.  It  too  is  char- 
acteristic. “ Though  I am  sorry  for  the 
death  of  Peel  from  personal  regard  and  be- 
cause it  is  no  doubt  a great  loss  to  the  coun- 
try, yet,  so  far  as  my  own  political  position 
is  concerned,  I do  not  think  that  he  was  ever 
disposed  to  do  me  any  good  turn.”  A little 
while  before,  Prince  Albert,  writing  to  his 
friend  Baron  Stockmar,  had  spoken  of  Peel 
as  having  somewhat  unduly  favored  Palmer- 
ston’s foreign  policy  in  the  great  Pacifico  de- 
bate, or  at  least  not  having  borne  as  severety 
as  he  might  upon  it,  and  for  a certainly  not 
selfish  reason.  “ He”  (Peel)  “ could  not  call 
the  policy  good,  and  yet  he  did  not  wish  to 
damage  the  Ministry,  and  this  solely  because 
he  considered  that  a Protectionist  Ministry 
succeeding  them  would  be  dangerous  to  the 
country,  and  had  quite  determined  not  to 
take  office  himself.  But  would  the  fact  that 
his  health  no  longer  admitted  of  his  doing  so 
have  been  sufficient  as  time  went  on  to  make 
his  followers  and  friends  bear  with  patient 
resignation  their  own  permanent  exclusion 
from  office?  I doubt  it.”  The  Prince  might 
well  doubt  it  : if  Peel  had  lived  it  is  all  but 
certain  that  he  would  have  had  to  take  office. 
It  is  curious,  however,  to  notice  how  com- 
pletely Prince  Albert  and  Lord  Palmerston 
are  at  odds  in  their  way  of  estimating  Peel’s 
political  attitude  before  his  death.  Lord 
Palmerston’s  quiet  way  of  setting  Peel  down 
as  one  who  would  never  be  disposed  to  do 
him  a good  turn  is  characteristic  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  Foreign  Secretary  went  in 


for  the  game  of  politics.  Palmerston  was  a 
man  of  kindly  instincts  and  genial  tempera- 
ment. He  was  much  loved  by  his  friends. 
His  feelings  were  always  directing  him  to- 
wards a certain  half  - indolent  benevolence. 
But  the  game  of  politics  was  to  him  like  the 
hunting  field.  One  cannot  stop  to  help  a 
friend  out  of  a ditch  or  to  lament  over  him  if 
he  is  down  and  seriously  injured.  For  the 
hour  the  only  thing  is  to  keep  on  one’s  way. 
In  the  political  game  Lord  Palmerston  was 
playing,  enemies  were  only  obstacles,  and  it 
would  be  absurd  to  pretend  to  be  sorry  when 
they  were  out  of  his  path.  Therefore  there 
is  no  affectation  of  generous  regret  for  Louis 
Philippe.  Political  rivals,  even  if  private 
friends,  are  something  like  obstacles  too. 
Palmerston  is  of  opinion  that  Peel  would 
never  be  disposed  to  do  him  a good  turn,  and 
therefore  indulges  in  no  sentimental  regret 
for  his  death.  He  is  a loss  to  the  country, 
no  doubt,  and  personally  one  is  sorry  for  him, 
of  course,  and  all  that : “ which  done,  God 
take  King  Edward  to  his  mercy,  and  leave 
the  world  for  me  to  bustle  in.”  The  world 
certainly  was  more  free  henceforth  for  Lord 
Palmerston’s  active  and  unresting  spirit  to 
bustle  in. 

CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  ECCLESIASTICAL  TITLES  BILL. 

The  autumn  of  1850  and  the  greater  part 
of  1851  were  disturbed  by  an  agitation  which 
seems  strangely  out  of  keeping  with  our 
present  condition  of  religious  liberty  and 
civilization.  A struggle  with  the  Papal 
Court  might  appear  to  be  a practical  impossi- 
bility for  the  England  of  our  time.  The 
mind  has  to  go  back  some  centuries  to  put  it- 
self into  what  would  appear  the  proper  frame- 
work for  such  events.  Legislation  or  even 
agitation  against  Papal  aggression  would 
seem  about  as  superfluous  in  our  modern 
English  days  as  the  use  of  any  of  the  once- 
popular  charms  which  were  believed  to  hin- 
der witches  of  their  will.  The  story  is  ex- 
traordinary, and  is  in  many  ways  instructive. 

For  some  time  previous  to  1850  there  had 
been,  as  we  have  seen  already,  a certain 
movement  among  some  scholarly,  mystical 
men  in  England  towards  the  Roman  Church. 
We  have  already  shown  how  this  movement 
began,  and  how  little  it  could  fairly  be  said 
to  represent  any  actual  impulse  of  reaction 
among  the  English  people.  But  it  unques- 
tionably made  a profound  impression  in 
Rome.  The  court  of  Rome  then  saw  every- 
thing through  the  eyes  of  ecclesiastics  ; and 
a Roman  Catholic  ecclesiastic  not  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  actual  conditions  of  Eng- 
lish life  might  well  be  excused  if,  when  he 
found  that  two  or  three  great  Englishmen 
had  gone  over  to  the  Church,  he  fancied  that 
they  were  but  the  vanguard  of  a vast  popular 
or  national  movement.  It  is  clear  that  the 
court  of  Rome  was  quite  mistaken  as  to  the 
religious  condition  of  England.  The  mo  t 
chimerical  notions  prevailed  in  the  Vatican. 
To  the  eyes  of  Papal  enthusiasm  the  whole 
English  nation  was  only  waiting  for  some 
word  in  season  to  return  to  the  spiritual  juris- 
diction of  Rome.  The  Pope  had  not  been 
fortunate  in  many  things.  He  had  been  a 
fugitive  from  his  own  city,  and  had  been  re- 
stored only  by  the  force  of  French  arms.  He 
was  a thoroughly  good,  pious,  and  genial 
man,  not  seeing  far  into  the  various  ways  of 
human  thought  and  national  character  ; and 
to  his  mind  there  was  nothing  unreasonable 
in  the  idea  that  heaven  might  have  made  up 
for  the  domestic  disasters  of  his  reign  by 
making  him  the  instrument  of  the  conversion 
of  England.  No  better  proof  can  be  given 
of  the  manner  in  which  he  and  his  advisers 
misunderstood  the  English  people  than  the 
step  with  which  his  sanguine  zeal  inspired 
him.  The  English  people,  even  while  they 
yet  bowed  to  the  spiritual  supremacy  of  the 
Papacy,  were  always  keenly  jealous  of  any 
ecclesiastical  attempt  to  control  the  political 
action  or  restrict  the  national  independence 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


69 


of  England.  The  history  of  the  relations  be- 
tween England  and  Rome  for  long  genera- 
tions before  England  had  any  thought  of  re- 
nouncing the  faith  of  Rome  might  have  fur- 
nished ample  proof  of  this  to  any  one  who 
gave  himself  the  trouble  to  turn  over  a few 
pages  of  English  chronicles.  The  Pope  did 
not  read  English,  and  his  advisers  did  not 
understand  England.  Accordingly  he  took 
a step,  with  the  view  of  encouraging  and  in- 
viting England  to  become  converted,  which 
was  calculated  specially  and  instantly  to  de- 
feat its  own  purpose.  Had  the  great  majority 
of  the  English  people  been  really  drawing 
towards  the  verge  of  a reaction  to  Rome, 
such  an  act  as  that  done  by  the  Pope  might 
have  startled  them  back  to  their  old  attitude. 
The  assumption  of  Papal  authority  over  Eng- 
land only  tilled  the  English  people  with  a 
new  determination  to  repudiate  and  resist 
every  pretension  at  spiritual  authority  on  the 
part  of  the  court  of  Rome. 

The  time  has  so  completely  passed  away, 
and  the  supposed  pretensions  have  come  to 
so  little,  that  the  most  zealous  Protestant  can 
afford  to  discuss  the  whole  question  now 
with  absolute  impartiality  and  unruffled  calm- 
ness. Every  one  can  clearly  see  now  that  if 
the  Pope  was  mistaken  in  the  course  he  took, 
and  if  the  nation  in  general  was  amply  justi- 
fied in  resenting  even  a supposed  attempt  at 
foreign  interference,  the  piece  of  legislation 
to  which  the  occasion  gave  birth  was  not  a 
masterpiece  of  statesmanship,  nor  was  the 
manner  in  which  it  was  carried  through  al- 
ways creditable  to  the  good  sense  of  Parlia- 
ment and  the  public.  The  Papal  aggression 
in  itself  was  perhaps  a measure  to  smile  at 
rather  than  to  arouse  great  national  indigna- 
tion. It  consisted  in  the  issue  of  a Papal 
bull,  “ given  at  St.  Peter’s,  Rome,  under  the 
seal  of  the  fisherman,”  and  directing  the  es- 
tablishment in  England  “ of  a hierarchy  of 
bishops  deriving  their  titles  from  their  own 
sees,  which  we  constitute  by  the  present  let- 
ter iu  the  various  apostolic  districts.”  It  is  a 
curious  evidence  of  the  little  knowledge  of 
England’s  condition  possessed  by  the  court 
of  Rome  then,  that  although  five  sixths  at 
least  of  the  Catholics  in  England  were  Irish 
by  birth  or  extraction,  the  newly-appointed 
bishops  were  all,  or  nearly  all,  Englishmen 
unconnected  with  Ireland. 

An  Englishman  of  the  present  day  would 
be  probably  inclined  to  ask,  on  hearing  the 
effect  of  the  bull,  Is  that  all  ? Being  told 
that  that  was  all,  he  would  probably  have 
gone  on  to  ask,  What  does  it  matter  ? Who 
cares  whether  the  Pope  gives  new  titles  to  his 
English  ecclesiastics  or  not  ? What  Protes- 
tant is  even  interested  in  knowing  whether  a 
certain  Catholic  bishop  living  in  England  is 
called  Bishop  of  Mesopotamia,  or  of  Lam- 
beth ? There  always  were  Catholic  bishops 
in  England.  There  were  Catholic  arch- 
bishops. They  were  free  to  go  and  come,  to 
preach  and  teach  as  they  liked  ; to  dress  as 
they  liked  ; for  all  that  nineteen  out  of  every 
twenty  Englishmen  cared,  they  might  have 
been  also  free  to  call  themselves  what  they 
liked.  Any  Protestant  who  mixed  with 
Roman  Catholics,  or  knew  anything  about 
their  usages,  knew  that  they  were  in  the  habit 
of  calling  their  bishops  “ my  lord,”  and  their 
archbishops  “your  grace.”  He  knew  of 
course  that  they  had  not  the  slightest  legal 
right  to  use  such  high-sounding  titles,  but 
this  did  not  trouble  him  in  the  least.  It  was 
only  a ceremonial  intended  for  Catholics,  and 
it  did  not  give  him  either  offence  or  concern. 
Why  then  should  he  be  expected  to  disturb 
his  mind  because  the  Pope  chose  to  direct 
that  the  English  Roman  Catholics  should  call 
a man  Bishop  of  Liverpool  or  Archbishop  of 
W estminster  ? The  Pope  could  not  compel 
him  to  call  them  by  any  such  names  if  he  did 
not  think  fit ; and  unless  his  attention  had 
been  very  earnestly  drawn  to  the  fact,  he 
never  probably  would  have  found  out  that 
any  new  titles  had  been  invented  for  the 
Catholic  hierarchy  in  England. 


This  was  the  way  in  which  a great  many 
Englishmen  regarded  the  matter  even  then. 
But  it  must  be  owned  that  there  was  some- 
thing about  the  time  and  manner  of  the  Papal 
bull  calculated  to  offend  the  susceptibility  of 
a great  and  independent  nation.  The  mere 
fact  that  a certain  movement  towards  Rome 
had  been  painfully  visible  in  the  ranks  of  the 
English  Church  itself,  was  enough  to  make 
people  sensitive  and  jealous.  The  plain  sense 
of  many  thoroughly  impartial  and  cool-headed 
Englishmen  showed  them  that  the  two  things 
were  connected  in  the  mind  of  the  Pope,  and 
that  he  had  issued  his  bull  because  he  thought 
the  time  was  actually  coming  when  he  might 
begin  to  take  measures  for  the  spiritual  an- 
nexation of  England.  His  pretensions  might 
be  of  no  account  in  themselves  ; but  the  fact 
that  he  made  them  in  the  evident  belief  that 
they  were  justified  by  realities,  produced  a 
jarring  and  painful  effect  on  the  mind  of  Eng- 
land. The  offence  lay  in  the  Pope’s  evident 
assumption  that  the  change  he  was  making 
was  the  natural  result  of  an  actual  change  in 
the  national  feeling  of  England.  The  anger 
was  not  against  the  giving  of  the  new  titles, 
but  against  the  assumption  of  a new  right  to 
give  titles  representing  territorial  distinctions 
in  this  country.  The  agitation  that  sprang 
up  was  fiercely  heated  by  the  pastoral  letter 
of  the  chief  of  the  new  hierarchy.  The  Pope 
had  divided  England  into  various  dioceses, 
which  he  placed  under  the  control  of  an  arch- 
bishop and  twelve  suffragans  ; and  the  new 
archbishop  was  Cardinal  Wiseman.  Under 
the  title  of  Archbishop  of  Westminster  and 
Administrator  Apostolic  of  the  Diocese  of 
Southwark,  Cardinal  Wiseman  was  now  to 
reside  in  London.  Cardinal  Wiseman  was 
already  well  known  in  England.  He  was  of 
English  descent  on  his  father’s  side  and  of 
Irish  on  his  mother’s  ; he  was  a Spaniard  by 
birth  and  a Roman  by  education.  His  fam- 
ily on  both  sides  was  of  good  position  ; his 
father  came  of  a long  line  of  Essex  gentry. 
Wiseman  had  held  the  professorship  of  Ori- 
ental languages  in  the  English  College  at 
Rome,  and  afterwards  became  rector  of  the 
college.  In  1840  he  was  appointed  by  the 
Pope  one  of  the  Vicars  Apostolic  in  England, 
and  held  his  position  here  as  Bishop  of  Mel- 
ipotamus  in  parlibus  infidelium.  He  was 
well  known  to  be  a fine  scholar,  an  accom- 
plished linguist,  and  a powerful  preacher  and 
controversialist.  But  he  was  believed  also  to 
be  a man  of  great  ecclesiastical  ambition — 
ambition  for  his  Church,  that  is  to  say — of 
singular  boldness,  and  of  much  political  abil- 
ity. The  Pope’s  action  was  set  down  as  in 
great  measure  the  work  of  Wiseman.  The 
Cardinal  himself  was  accepted  in  the  minds 
of  most  Englishmen  as  a type  of  the  regular 
Italian  ecclesiastic— bold,  clever,  ambitious, 
and  unscrupulous.  The  very  fact  of  his  Eng- 
lish extraction  only  militated  the  more 
against  him  in  the  public  feeling.  He  was 
regarded  as  in  some  sense  one  who  had  gone 
over  to  the  enemy,  and  who  was  the  more  to 
be  dreaded  because  of  the  knowledge  he 
carried  with  him.  Perhaps  it  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  in  the  existing  mood  of  the 
English  people  the  very  title  of  Cardinal  ex- 
asperated the  feeling  against  Wiseman.  Had 
he  come  as  a simple  archbishop,  the  aggres- 
sion might  not  have  seemed  so  marked. 
The  title  of  Cardinal  brought  back  unwel- 
come memories  to  the  English  public.  It 
reminded  them  of  a period  of  their  history 
when  the  forces  of  Rome  and  those  of  the 
national  independence  were  really  arrayed 
against  each  other  in  a struggle  which  Eng- 
lishmen might  justly  look  on  as  dangerous. 
Since  those  times  there  had  been  no  cardinal 
in  England.  Did  it  not  look  ominous  that  a 
cardinal  should  present  himself  now  ? The 
first  step  taken  by  Cardinal  Wiseman  did  not 
tend  to  charm  away  this  feeling.  He  issued 
a pastoral  letter,  addressed  to  England,  on 
October  7,  1850,  which  was  set  forth  as  “ giv- 
en out  of  the  Flaminian  Gate  of  Rome.” 
This  description  of  the  letter  was  afterwards 


stated  to  be  in  accordance  with  one  of  the 
necessary  formularies  of  the  Church  of  Rome; 
but  it  was  then  assumed  in  England  to  be  an 
expression  of  insolence  and  audacity  intend- 
ed to  remind  the  English  people  that  from 
out  of  Rome  itself  came  the  assertion  of 
supremacy  over  them.  This  letter  was  to  be 
read  publicly  in  all  the  Roman  Catholic 
churches  in  London.  It  addressed  itself  di- 
rectly to  the  English  people,  and  it  announced 
that  “ your  beloved  country  has  received  a 
place  among  the  fair  churches  which  nor- 
mally constituted  form  the  splendid  aggregate 
of  Catholic  communion  ; Catholic  England 
has  been  restored  to  its  orbit  in  the  ecclesias- 
tical firmament  from  which  its  light  had 
long  vanished  ; and  begins  now  anew  its 
course  of  regularly-adjusted  action  round  the 
centre  of  unity,  the  source  of  jurisdiction,  of 
light,  and  of  vigor.” 

It  must  be  allowed  that  this  was  rather  im- 
prudent language  to  address  to  a people  pe- 
culiarly proud  of  being  Protestant ; a people 
of  whom  their  critics  say,  not  wholly  without 
reason,  that  they  are  somewhat  narrow  and 
unsympathetic  in  their  Protestantism  ; that 
their  national  tendency  is  to  believe  in  the 
existence  of  nothing  really  good  outside  the 
limits  of  Protestantism.  In  England  the 
National  Church  is  a symbol  of  victory  over 
foreign  enemies  and  domination  at  home. 
It  was  not  likely  that  the  English  people 
could  regard  it  as  anything  but  an  offence  to 
be  told  that  they  were  resuming  their  place 
as  a part  of  an  ecclesiastical  system  to  which 
they,  of  all  peoples,  looked  with  dislike  and 
distrust.  We  are  not  saying  that  the  feeling 
with  which  the  great  bulk  of  the  English 
people  regarded  Cardinal  Wiseman’s  church 
was  just  or  liberal.  W e are  simply  recording 
the  unquestionable  historical  fact  that  such 
was  the  mauner  in  which  the  English  people 
regarded  the  Roman  Church,  in  order  to 
show  how  slender  was  the  probability  of 
their  being  moved  to  anything  but  anger  by 
such  expressions  as  those  contained  in  Cardi- 
nal Wiseman’s  letter.  But  the  letter  had 
hardly  reached  England  when  the  country 
was  aroused  by  another  letter  coming  from  a 
very  different  quarter,  and  intended  as  a coun- 
terblast to  the  Papal  assumption  of  authority. 
This  was  Lord  John  Russell’s  famous  Dur- 
ham letter.  Russell  had  the  art  of  writing 
letters  that  exploded  like  bomb-shells  in  the 
midst  of  some  controversy.  His  Edinburgh 
letter  had  set  the  Cabinet  of  Sir  Robert  Peel 
on  to  recognize  the  fact  that  something  must 
be  done  with  the  Free  Trade  question  ; and 
now  his  Durham  letter  spoke  the  word  that 
let  loose  a very  torrent  of  English  public 
feeling.  The  letter  was  in  reply  to  one 
from  the  Bishop  of  Durham,  and  was  dated 
“Downing  Street,  November  the  4th.” 
Lord  John  Russell  condemned  in  the  most 
unmeasured  terms  the  assumption  of  the 
Pope  as  “ a pretension  of  supremacy  over  the 
realm  of  England,  and  a claim  to  sole  and  un- 
divided sway,  which  is  inconsistent  with  the 
Queen’s  supremacy,  with  the  rights  of  our 
bishops  and  clergy,  and  with  the  spiritual  in- 
dependence of  the  nation  as  asserted  even  in 
the  Roman  Catholic  times.”  Lord  John 
Russell  went  on  to  say  that  his  alarm  was  by 
no  means  equal  to  his  indignation  ; that  the 
liberty  of  Protestantism  had  been  enjoyed  too 
long  in  England  to  allow  of  any  successful 
attempt  to  impose  a foreign  yoke  upon  men’s 
minds  and  consciences,  and  that  the  laws  of 
the  country  should  be  carefully  examined, 
and  the  propriety  of  adopting  some  additional 
measures  deliberately  considered.  But  Lord 
John  Russell  went  further  than  all  this.  He 
declared  that  there  was  a danger  that  alarmed 
him  more  than  any  aggression  from  a foreign 
sovereign,  and  that  was  “ the  danger  within 
the  gates  from  the  unworthy  sons  of  the 
Church  of  England  herself.  ’ ’ Clergymen  of 
that  Church,  he  declared,  had  been  “ leading 
their  flocks  step  by  step  to  the  verge  of  the 
precipice.”  What,  he  asked,  meant  “the 
honor  paid  to  saints,  the  claim  of  infallibility 


70 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


for  the  Church,  the  superstitious  use  of  the 
sign  of  the  Cross,  the  muttering  of  the  Lit- 
urgy so  as  to  disguise  the  language  in  which 
it  is  written,  the  recommendation  of  auricu- 
lar confession,  and  the  administration  of  pen- 
ance and  absolution?”  The  letter  closed 
with  a sentence  which  gave  especial  offence 
to  Roman  Catholics,  but  which  Lord  John 
Russell  afterwards  explained,  and  indeed  the 
context  ought  to  have  shown,  was  not  meant 
as  any  attack  on  their  religion  or  their  cere- 
monial. “ I have  little  hope  that  the  pro- 
pounders and  framers  of  these  innovations 
will  desist  from  their  insidious  course  ; but  I 
rely  with  confidence  on  the  people  of  Eng- 
land ; and  I will  not  bate  one  jot  of  heart  or 
hope  so  long  as  the  glorious  principles  and 
the  immortal  martyrs  of  the  Reformation 
shall  be  held  in  reverence  by  the  great  mass 
of  a nation  which  looks  with  contempt  on  the 
mummeries  of  superstition,  and  with  scorn  at 
the  laborious  endeavors  which  are  now  mak- 
ing to  confine  the  intellect  and  enslave  the 
soul.”  It  is  now  clear  from  the  very  terms 
of  this  letter  that  Lord  John  Russell  meant  to 
apply  these  words  to  the  practices  within  the 
English  Church  which  he  had  so  strongly 
condemned  in  the  earlier  passages,  and 
which  alone,  he  said,  he  regarded  with  any 
serious  alarm.  But  the  Roman  Catholics  in 
general  and  the  majority  of  persons  of  all 
sects  accepted  them  as  a denunciation  of 
“Popery.”  The  Catholics  looked  upon 
them  as  a declaration  of  war  against  Catholi- 
cism ; the  fanatical  of  the  other  side  wel- 
comed them  as  a trumpet-call  to  a new  “ No 
Popery”  agitation. 

The  very  day  after  the  letter  appeared  was 
the  Guy  Faux  anniversary.  All  over  the 
country  the  effigies  of  the  Pope  and  Cardinal 
Wiseman  took  the  place  of  the  regulation 
“Guy,”  and  were  paraded  and  burnt  amid 
tumultuous  demonstrations.  A colossal  pro- 
cession of  “ Guys”  passed  down  Fleet  Street, 
the  principal  figure  of  which,  a gigantic  form 
of  sixteen  feet  high,  seated  in  a chariot,  had 
to  be  bent  down,  compelled  to  “veil  his 
crest,”  in  order  to  pass  under  Temple  Bar. 
This  Titanic  “ Guy”  was  the  new  Cardinal 
in  his  red  robes.  In  Exeter  a yet  more  elab- 
orate Anti-Papal  demonstration  was  made. 
A procession  of  two  hundred  persons  in  char- 
acter-dresses marched  round  the  venerable 
cathedral  amid  the  varied  effulgence  of  colored 
lights.  The  procession  represented  the  Pope, 
the  new  Cardinal,  and  the  Inquisition,  various 
of  the  Inquisitors  brandishing  instruments  of 
torture.  Considerable  sums  of  money  were 
spent  on  these  popular  demonstrations,  the 
only  interest  in  which  now  is  that  they  serve 
to  illustrate  the  public  sentiment  of  the  hour. 
Mr.  Disraeli  good-naturedly  endeavored  at 
once  to  foment  the  prevailing  heat  of  public 
temper  and  at  the  same  time  to  direct  its  fer- 
vor against  the  Ministry  themselves,  by  de- 
claring in  a published  letter  that  he  could 
hardly  blame  the  Pope  for  supposing  himself 
at  liberty  to  divide  England  into  bishoprics, 
seeing  the  encouragement  he  had  got  from 
the  ministers  themselves  by  the  recognition 
they  had  offered  to  the  Roman  Catholic  hier- 
archy of  Ireland.  “ The  fact  is,  ” Mr.  Dis- 
raeli said,  “ the  whole  question  has  been  sur- 
rendered and  decided  in  favor  of  the  Pope 
by  the  present  Government.  The  ministers 
who  recognized  the  pseudo- Archbishop  of 
Tuam  as  a peer  and  a prelate  cannot  object 
to  the  appointment  of  a pseudo- Arch  bishop 
of  Westminster,  even  though  he  be  a car- 
dinal.” As  a matter  of  fact  it  was  not  the 
existing  Government  that  had  recognized  the 
rank  of  the  Irish  Catholic  prelates.  The  rec- 
ognition had  been  formally  arranged  in  Jan- 
uary, 1845,  by  a royal  warrant  or  commission 
for  carrying  out  the  Charitable  Bequests  Act, 
which  gave  the  Irish  Catholic  prelates  rank 
immediately  after  the  prelates  of  the  Estab- 
lished Church  of  the  same  degree.  But  the 
letter  of  Mr.  Disraeli,  like  that  of  Lord  John 
Russell,  served  to  inflame  passions  on  both 
sides  and  to  put  the  country  in  the  worst 


possible  mood  for  any  manner  of  wholesome 
legislation.  Never  during  the  same  genera- 
tion had  there  been  such  an  outburst  of  anger 
on  both  sides  of  the  religious  controversy. 
It  was  a curious  incident  in  political  history 
that  Lord  John  Russell,  who  had  more  than 
any  Englishman  then  living  been  identified 
with  the  principles  of  religious  liberty,  who 
had  sat  at  the  feet  of  Fox,  and  had  for  his 
closest  friend  the  Catholic  poet  Thomas 
Moore,  came  to  be  regarded  by  Roman  Cath- 
olics as  the  bitterest  enemy  of  their  creed  and 
their  rights  of  worship. 

The  Ministry  felt  that  something  must  be 
done.  They  could  not  face  Parliament  with- 
out some  piece  of  legislation  to  satisfy  public 
feeling.  Many  even  among  the  most  zealous 
Protestants  deeply  regretted  that  Lord  John 
Russell  had  written  anything  on  the  subject. 
Not  a few  Roman  Catholics  of  position  and 
influence  bitterly  lamented  the  indiscretion 
of  the  Papal  court.  The  mischief,  however, 
was  now  fairly  afoot.  The  step  taken  by  the 
Pope  had  set  the  country  aflame.  Every  day 
crowded  and  tumultuous  meetings  were  held 
to  denounce  the  action  of  the  court  of  Rome. 
Before  the  end  of  the  year  something  like 
seven  thousand  such  meetings  had  been  held 
throughout  the  kingdom.  Sometimes  the 
Roman  Catholic  party  mustered  strong  at 
such  demonstrations,  and  the  result  was  riot- 
ing and  disturbance.  Addresses  poured  in 
upon  the  Queen  and  the  ministers  calling  for 
decided  action  against  the  assumption  of  Pa- 
pal authority.  About  the  same  time  Father 
Gavazzi,  an  Italian  republican  who  had  been 
a priest,  came  to  London  and  began  a series 
of  lectures  against  the  Papacy.  He  was  a 
man  of  great  rhetorical  power,  with  a remark- 
able command  of  the  eloquence  of  passion 
and  denunciation.  His  lectures  were  at  first 
given  only  in  Italian,  and  therefore  did  not 
appeal  to  a popular  English  audience.  But 
they  were  reported  in  the  papers  at  much 
length,  and  they  contributed  not  a little  to 
swell  the  tide  of  public  feeling  against  the 
Pope  and  the  court  of  Rome.  The  new  Lord 
Chancellor,  Lord  Truro,  created  great  ap- 
plause and  tumult  at  the  Lord  Mayor’s  din- 
ner by  quoting  from  Shakespeare  the  words, 
“ Under  my  feet  I’ll  stamp  thy  cardinal’s 
hat,  in  spite  of  Pope  or  dignities  of  Church.  ” 
Charles  Kean,  the  tragedian,  was  interrupted 
by  thundering  peals  of  applause  and  the  ris- 
ing of  the  whole  audience  to  their  feet  when, 
as  King  John,  he  proclaimed  that  “ no  Ital- 
ian priest  shall  tithe  or  toll  in  our  dominion.  ” 
Long  afterwards,  and  when  the  storm  seemed 
to  have  wholly  died  away,  Cardinal  Wise- 
man, going  in  a carriage  through  the  streets 
of  Liverpool  to  deliver  a lecture  on  a purely 
literary  subject  to  a general  audience,  was 
pelted  with  stones  by  a mob  who  remember- 
ed the  Papal  assumption  and  the  passions  ex- 
cited by  the  Ecclesiastical  Titles  Act. 

The  opening  of  Parliament  came.  The 
Ministry  had  to  do  something.  No  Ministry 
that  ever  held  power  in  England  could  have 
attempted  to  meet  the  House  of  Commons 
without  some  project  of  a measure  to  allay 
public  excitement.  On  February  4,  1851, 
the  Queen  in  person  opened  Parliament. 
Her  speech  contained  some  sentences  which 
were  listened  to  with  the  profoundest  interest 
because  they  referred  to  the  question  which 
was  agitating  all  England.  “ The  recent  as- 
sumption of  certain  ecclesiastical  titles  con- 
ferred by  a foreign  Power  has  excited  strong 
feelings  in  this  country  ; and  large  bodies  of 
my  subjects  have  presented  addresses  to  me 
expressing  attachment  to  the  Throne  and 
praying  that  such  assumptions  should  be  re- 
sisted. I have  assured  them  of  my  resolu- 
tion to  maintain  the  rights  of  my  crown  and 
the  independence  of  the  nation  against  all 
encroachments,  from  whatever  quarter  they 
may  proceed.  I have  at  the  same  time  ex- 
pressed my  earnest  desire  and  firm  determina- 
tion under  God’s  blessing  to  maintain  unim- 
paired the  religious  liberty  which  is  so  justly 
prized  by  the  people  of  this  country.”  How 


little  of  inclination  to  any  measures  dealing 
unfairly  with  Roman  Catholics  was  in  the 
mind  of  the  Queen  herself  may  be  seen  from 
a letter  in  which,  when  the  excitement  was  at 
its  height,  she  had  expressed  her  opinion  to 
her  aunt,  the  Duchess  of  Gloucester.  “ 1 
would  never  have  consented  to  anything 
which  breathed  a spirit  of  intolerance.  Sin- 
cerely Protestant  as  I always  have  been  and 
always  shall  be,  and  indignant  as  I am  at 
those  who  call  themselves  Protestants  while 
they  are  in  fact  quite  the  contrary,  I much 
regret  the  unchristian  and  intolerant  spirit 
exhibited  by  many  people  at  the  public  meet- 
ings. I cannot  bear  to  hear  the  violent 
abuse  of  the  Catholic  religion,  which  is  so 
painful  and  so  cruel  towards  the  many  good 
and  innocent  Roman  Catholics.  However, 
we  must  hope  and  trust  this  excitement  will 
soon  cease,  and  that  the  wholesome  effect  of 
it  upon  our  own  Church  will  be  lasting.” 

“ The  Papal  aggression  question,”  Lord 
Palmerston  wrote ’to  his  brother  just  before 
the  opening  of  Parliament,  “ will  give  us 
some  trouble,  and  give  rise  to  stormy  de- 
bates. Our  difficulty  will  be  to  find  out  a 
measure  which  shall  satisfy  reasonable  Prot- 
estants without  violating  those  principles  of 
liberal  toleration  which  we  are  pledged  to. 
I think  we  shall  succeed.  . . . The  thing 

itself,  in  truth,  is  little  or  nothing,  and  does 
not  justify  the  irritation.  What  has  goaded 
the  nation  is  the  manner,  insolent  and  osten- 
tatious, in  which  it  has  been  done.  . . . 

We  must  bring  in  a measure.  The  country 
would  not  be  satisfied  without  some  legisla- 
tive enactment.  We  shall  make  it  as  gentle 
as  possible.  The  violent  party  will  object 
to  it  for  its  mildness,  and  will  endeavor  to 
drive  us  farther.”  A measure  brought  in 
only  because  something  must  be  done  to  sat- 
isfy public  opinion  is  not  likely  to  be  a very 
valuable  piece  of  legislation.  The  Ministry 
in  this  case  were  embarrassed  by  the  fact 
that  they  really  did  not  particularly  want  to 
do  anything  except  to  satisfy  public  opinion 
for  the  moment  and  get  rid  of  all  the  contro- 
versy. They  were  placed  between  two  gall- 
ing fires.  On  the  one  side  were  the  extreme 
Protestants,  to  whom  Palmerston  alluded  as 
violent,  and  who  were  eager  for  severe  meas- 
ures against  the  Catholics  ; and  on  the  other 
were  the  Roman  Catholic  supporters  of  the 
Ministry,  who  protested  against  any  legisla- 
tion whatever  on  the  subject.  It  would 
have  been  simply  impossible  to  find  any  safe 
and  satisfactory  path  of  compromise  which 
all  could  consent  to  walk.  The  Ministry  did 
the  best  they  could  to  frame  a measure  which 
should  seem  to  do  something  and  yet  do  lit- 
tle or  nothing.  Two  or  three  days  after  the 
meeting  of  Parliament  Lord  John  Russell  in- 
troduced his  bill  to  prevent  the  assumption 
by  Roman  Catholics  of  titles  taken  from  any 
territory  or  place  within  the  United  King- 
dom. The  measure  proposed  to  prohibit 
the  use  of  all  such  titles  under  penalty,  and 
to  render  void  all  acts  done  by  or  bequests 
made  to  persons  under  such  titles.  The  Ro- 
man Catholic  Relief  Act  imposed  a penalty 
of  one  hundred  pounds  for  every  assumption 
of  a title  taken  from  an  existing  see.  Lord 
John  Russell  proposed  now  to  extend  the  pen- 
alty to  the  assumption  of  any  title  whatever 
from  any  place  in  the  United  Kingdom. 
The  reception  which  was  given  to  Lord 
John  Russell’s  motion  for  leave  to  bring  in 
this  bill  was  not  encouraging.  Usually 
leave  to  bring  in  a bill  is  granted  as  a matter 
of  course.  Some  few  general  observations  of 
extemporaneous  and  guarded  criticism  are 
often  made  ; but  the  common  practice  is  to 
offer  no  opposition.  On  this  occasion,  how- 
ever, it  was  at  once  made  manifest  that  no 
measure,  however  “gentle,  ’ to  use  Lord 
Palmerston’s  word,  would  be  allowed  to  pass 
without  obstinate  opposition.  Mr.  Roebuck 
described  the  bill  as  “one  of  the  meanest, 
pettiest,  and  most  futile  measures  that  ever- 
disgraced  even  bigotry  itself.”  Mr.  Bright 
called  it  “ little,  paltry,  and  miserable— a 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


71 


mere  sham  to  bolster  up  Church  ascendency.  ’ ’ 
Mr.  Disraeli  declared  that  he  would  not  op- 
pose the  introduction  of  the  bill ; but  he 
spoke  of  it  in  language  of  as  much  contempt 
as  Mr.  Roebuck  and  Mr.  Bright  had  used, 
calling  it  a mere  piece  of  petty  persecution. 
“Was  it  for  this,’’  Mr.  Disraeli  scornfully 
asked,  “that  the  Lord  Chancellor  trampled 
on  a cardinal’s  hat  amid  the  patriotic  accla- 
mations of  the  metropolitan  municipality  ?” 
Sir  Robert  Inglis,  on  the  part  of  the  more  ex- 
treme Protestants,  objected  to  the  bill  on  the 
ground  that  it  did  not  go  far  enough.  The 
debate  on  the  motion  for  leave  to  bring  in  the 
bill  was  renewed  for  night  after  night,  and 
the  fullest  promise  of  an  angry  and  prolonged 
resistance  was  given.  Yet  so  strong  was  the 
feeling  in  favor  of  some  legislation  that  when 
the  division  was  taken,  three  hundred  and 
ninety-five  votes  were  given  for  the  motion 
and  only  sixty-  three  against  it.  The  oppon- 
ents of  the  measure  had  on  their  side  not  only 
all  the  prominent  champions  of  religious  lib- 
erty like  Sir  James  Graham,  Mr.  Gladstone, 
Mr.  Cobden,  and  Mr.  Bright,  but  also  Prot- 
estant politicians  of  such  devotion  to  the  in- 
terests of  the  Church  as  Mr.  Roundell  Pal- 
mer, afterwards  Lord  Selborne,  and  Mr.  Ber- 
esford  Hope  ; and  of  course  they  had  with 
them  all  the  Irish  Catholic  members.  Yet 
the  motion  for  leave  to  bring  in  the  bill  was 
carried  by  this  overwhelming  majority.  The 
ministers  had  at  all  events  ample  justifica- 
tion, so  far  as  Parliamentary  tactics  were 
concerned,  for  the  introduction  of  their 
measure. 

If,  however,  we  come  to  regard  the  minis- 
terial proposal  as  a piece  of  practical  legisla- 
tion, the  case  to  be  made  out  for  them  is  not 
strong,  nor  is  the  abortive  result  of  their 
efforts  at  all  surprising.  They  set  out  on  the 
enterprise  without  any  real  interest  in  it,  or 
any  particular  confidence  in  its  success.  It 
is  probable  that  Lord  John  Russell  alone  of 
all  the  ministers  had  any  expectation  of  a 
satisfactory  result  to  come  of  the  piece  of 
legislation  they  were  attempting.  We  have 
seen  what  Lord  Palmerston  thought  on  the 
whole  subject.  The  ministers  were,  in  fact, 
in  the  difficulty  of  all  statesmen  who  bring  in 
a measure,  not  because  they  themselves  are 
clear  as  to  its  necessity  or  its  efficacy,  but  be- 
cause they  find  that  something  must  be  done 
to  satisfy  public  feeling,  and  they  do  not 
know  of  anything  better  to  do  at  the  mo- 
ment. The  history  of  the  Ecclesiastical 
Titles  Bill  was,  therefore,  a history  of  blun- 
der, unlucky  accident,  and  failure  from  the 
moment  it  was  brought  in  until  its  ignomin- 
ious and  ridiculous  repeal  many  years  after, 
and  when  its  absolute  impotence  had  been 
not  merely  demonstrated  but  forgotten. 

The  Government  at  first,  as  we  have  seen, 
resolved  to  impose  a penalty  on  the  assump- 
tion of  ecclesiastical  titles  by  Roman  Catho- 
lic prelates  from  places  in  the  United  King- 
dom, and  to  make  null  and  void  all  acts 
done  or  bequests  made  in  virtue  of  such 
titles.  But  they  found  that  it  would  be 
absolutely  impossible  to  apply  such  legis- 
lation to  Ireland.  In  that  country  a Cath- 
olic hierarchy  had  long  been  tolerated, 
and  all  the  functions  of  a regular  hier- 
archy had  been  in  full  and  formal  operation. 
To  apply  the  new  measure  to  Ireland  would 
have  been  virtually  to  repeal  the  Roman 
Catholic  Relief  Act  and  restore  the  penal 
laws.  On  the  other  hand,  the  ministers  were 
not  willing  to  make  one  law  against  titles 
for  England  and  another  for  Ireland.  They 
were  driven,  therefore,  to  the  course  of  with- 
drawing two  of  the  stringent  clauses  of  the 
bill,  and  leaving  it  little  more  than  a mere 
declaration  against  the  assumption  of  unlaw- 
ful titles.  But  by  doing  this  they  furnished 
stronger  reasons  for  opposition  to  both  of  the 
two  very  different  parties  who  had  hitherto 
denounced  their  way  of  dealing  with  the  cri- 
sis. Those  who  thought  the  bill  did  not  go 
far  enough  before  were  of  course  indignant 
at  the  proposal  to  shear  it  of  whatever  little 


force  it  had  originally  possessed.  They,  on 
the  other  hand,  who  had  opposed  it  as  a 
breach  of  the  principle  of  religious  liberty 
could  now  ridicule  it  with  all  the  greater 
effect  on  the  ground  that  it  violated  a princi- 
ple without  even  the  pretext  of  doing  any 
practical  good  as  a compensation.  In  the 
first  instance  the  Ministry  might  plead  that 
the  crisis  was  exceptional ; that  it  called  for 
exceptional  measures  ; that  something  must 
be  done  ; and  that  they  could  not  stand  on 
ceremony  even  with  the  principle  of  religious 
liberty  when  the  interest  of  the  State  was  at 
stake.  Now  they  left  it  in  the  power  of  their 
opponents  to  say  that  they  were  breaking  a 
principle  for  the  sake  of  introducing  a non- 
entity. 

The  debates  were  long,  fierce,  and  often 
passionate.  The  bill,  even  cut  down  as  it 
was,  had  a vast  majority  on  its  side.  But 
some  of  the  most  illustrious  names  in  the 
House  of  Commons  were  recorded  against  it ; 
by  far  the  most  eloquent  voices  in  the  House 
were  raised  to  condemn  it.  The  Irish  Ro- 
man Catholic  members  set  up  a persistent  op- 
position to  it,  and  up  to  a certain  period  of  its 
progress  put  in  requisition  all  the  forms  of  the 
House  to  impede  it.  This  part  of  the  story 
ought  not  to  be  passed  over  without  mention 
of  the  fact  that  among  other  effects  produced 
by  the  Ecclesiastical  Titles  Bill,  perhaps  the 
most  distinct  was  the  creation  of  the  most 
worthless  band  of  agitators  who  ever  pre- 
tended to  speak  with  the  voice  of  Ireland. 
These  were  the  men  who  were  called  in  the 
House  “ the  Pope’s  Brass  Band,”  and  who 
were  regarded  with  as  much  dislike  and  dis- 
trust by  all  intelligent  Irish  Catholics  and  Irish 
Nationalists  as  by  the  most  inveterate  Tories. 
These  men  leaped  into  influence  by  their 
denunciations  of  the  Ecclesiatical  Titles  Bill. 
They  were  successful  for  a time  in  palming 
themselves  off  as  patriots  upon  Irish  constitu- 
encies. They  thundered  against  the  bill  ; they 
put  in  motion  every  mechanism  of  delay  and 
obstruction  ; some  of  them  were  really  clever 
and  eloquent ; most  of  them  were  loud-voic- 
ed ; they  had  a grand  and  heaven-sent  oppor- 
tunity given  to  them,  and  they  made  use  of 
it.  They  had  a leader,  the  once  famous  John 
Sadleir.  This  man  possessed  marked  ability, 
and  was  further  gifted  with  an  unscrupulous 
audacity  at  least  equal  to  his  ability.  He 
went  to  work  deliberately  to  create  for  him- 
self a band  of  followers  by  whose  help  he 
might  mount  to  power.  He  was  a financial 
swindler  as  well  as  a political  adventurer. 
By  means  of  the  money  he  had  suddenly  ac- 
quired and  by  virtue  of  his  furious  denuncia- 
tions of  the  anti-Catholic  policy  of  the  Gov- 
ernment, he  was  for  a time  able  to  work  the 
Irish  popular  constituencies  so  as  to  get  his 
own  followers  into  the  House  and  become  for 
the  hour  a sort  of  little  O’Connell.  He  had 
with  him  some  two  or  three  honest  men, 
whom  he  deluded  into  a belief  in  the  sincer- 
ity of  himself  and  his  gang  of  swindling  ad- 
venturers ; and  it  is  only  fair  to  say  that  by 
far  the  most  eloquent  man  of  the  party  ap- 
pears to  have  been  one  of  those  on  whom 
Sadleir  was  thus  able  to  impose.  Mr.  Sad- 
leir’s  band  afterwards  came  to  sad  grief.  He 
committed  suicide  himself  to  escape  the  pun- 
ishment of  his  frauds  ; some  of  his  associates 
fled  to  foreign  countries  and  hid  themselves 
under  feigned  names.  James  Sadleir,  broth- 
er and  accomplice  of  John,  was  among  these, 
and  underwent  that  rare  mark  of  degradation 
in  our  days,  a formal  expulsion  from  the 
House  of  Commons.  The  Pope’s  Brass 
Band  and  its  subsequent  history,  culminating 
in  the  suicide  on  Hampstead  Heath,  was 
about  the  only  practical  result  of  the  Eccle- 
siastical Titles  Bill. 

The  bill,  reduced  in  stringency  as  has  been 
described,  made,  however,  some  progress 
through  the  House.  It  was  interrupted  at 
one  stage  by  events  which  had  nothing  to  do 
with  its  history.  The  Government  got  into 
trouble  of  another  kind.  At  the  opening  of 
the  session  Mr.  Disraeli  introduced  a motion 


to  the  effect  that  the  agricultural  distress  of 
the  country  called  upon  the  Government  to 
introduce  without  delay  some  measures  for 
its  relief.  This  motion  was  in  fact  the  last 
spasmodic  cry  of  Protection.  Many  influen- 
tial politicians  still  believed  that  the  cause  of 
Protection  was  not  wholly  lost  ; that  a reac- 
tion was  possible  ; that  the  Free  Trade  doc- 
trine would  prove  a failure  and  have  to  be 
given  up  ; and  they  regarded  Mr.  Disraeli’s 
as  a very  important  motion  calling  for  a 
strenuous  effort  in  its  favor.  The  Govern- 
ment treated  the  motion  as  one  for  restored 
Protection,  and  threw  all  their  strength  into 
the  struggle  against  it.  They  won  ; but  only 
by  a majority  of  fourteen.  A few  days 
after,  Mr.  Locke  King,  member  for  East 
Surrey,  asked  for  leave  to  bring  in  a bill  to 
assimilate  the  county  franchise  to  that  exist- 
ing in  boroughs.  Lord  John  Russell  opposed 
the  motion,  and  the  Government  were  de- 
feated by  100  votes  against  52.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  this  was  only  what  is  called  a 
“ snap”  vote  ; that  the  House  was  taken  by 
surprise,  and  that  the  result  in  no  wise  repre- 
sented the  general  feeling  of  Parliament. 
But  still  it  was  a vexatious  occurrence  for  the 
Ministry  already  humiliated  by  the  small 
majority  they  had  obtained  on  Disraeli’s  mo- 
tion. Their  budget  had  already  been  re- 
ceived with  very  general  marks  of  dissatisfac- 
tion. The  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  only 
proposed  a partial  and  qualified  repeal  of  the 
window  tax,  an  impost  which  was  justly  de- 
tested, and  he  continued  the  income  tax. 
The  budget  was  introduced  shortly  before 
Mr.  Locke  King’s  motion,  and  every  day  that 
had  elapsed  since  its  introduction  only  more 
and  more  developed  the  public  dissatisfaction 
with  which  it  was  regarded.  Under  all  these 
circumstances  Lord  John  Russell  felt  that  he 
had  no  alternative  but  to  tender  his  resigna- 
tion to  the  Queen.  Leaving  his  Ecclesiasti- 
cal Titles  Bill  suspended  in  air,  he  announced 
that  he  could  no  longer  think  of  carrying  on 
the  government  of  the  country. 

The  question  was  who  should  succeed  him. 
The  Queen  sent  for  Lord  Stanley,  afterwards 
Lord  Derby.  Lord  Stanley  offered  to  do  his 
best  to  form  a Government,  but  was  not  at 
all  sanguine  about  the  success  of  the  task  nor 
eager  to  undertake  it.  He  even  recommended 
that  before  he  made  any  experiment  Lord 
John  Russell  should  try  if  he  could  not  do 
something  by  getting  some  of  the  Peelites,  as 
they  were  then  beginning  to  be  called — the  fol- 
lowers of  Sir  Robert  Peel  who  had  held  with 
him  to  the  last — to  join  him  and  thus  patch 
up  the  Government  anew.  This  was  tried, 
and  failed.  The  Peelites  would  have  nothing 
to  do  with  the  Ecclesiastical  Titles  Bill,  and 
Lord  John  Russell  would  not  go  on  without 
it.  On  the  other  hand,  Lord  Aberdeen,  the 
chief  of  the  Peelites  in  the  House  of  Lords, 
would  not  attempt  to  form  a Ministry  of  his 
own,  frankly  acknowledging  that  in  the  ex- 
isting temper  of  the  country  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  any  Government  to  get  on  with- 
out legislating  in  some  way  on  the  Papal 
aggression.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  for 
Lord  Stanley  to  try.  He  tried  without  hope, 
and  of  course  he  was  unsuccessful.  The 
position  of  parties  was  very  peculiar.  It  was 
impossible  to  form  any  combination  which 
could  really  agree  upon  anything.  There 
were  three  parties  out  of  which  a Ministry 
might  be  formed.  These  were  the  Whigs, 
the  Conservatives,  and  the  Peelites.  The 
Peelites  were  a very  rising  and  promising 
body  of  men.  Among  them  were  Sir  James 
Graham,  Lord  Canning,  Mr.  Gladstone,  Mr. 
Sidney  Herbert,  Mr.  Cardwell,  and  some 
others  almost  equally  well  known.  Only 
these  three  groups  were  fairly  in  the  compe- 
tition for  office  ; for  the  idea  of  a Ministry  of 
Radicals  and  Manchester  men  was  not  then 
likely  to  present  itself  to  any  official  mind. 
But  how  could  any  one  put  together  a Minis- 
try formed  from  a combination  of  these 
three  ? The  Peelites  would  not  coalesce  with 
the  Tories  because  of  the  Protection  ques- 


72 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


tion,  to  which  Mr.  Disraeli’s  motion  had  giv- 
en a new  semblance  of  vitality,  and  because 
of  Lord  Stanley’s  own  declaration  that  he 
still  regarded  the  policy  of  Free  Trade  as 
only  an  experiment.  The  Peelites  would 
not  combine  with  the  Whigs  because  of  the 
Ecclesiastical  Titles  Bill.  The  Conservatives 
would  not  disavow  protective  ideas ; the 
Whigs  would  not  give  up  the  Ecclesiastical 
Titles  Bill.  No  statesman,  therefore,  could 
form  a Government  without  having  to  count 
on  two  great  parties  being  against  him  on  one 
question  or  the  other.  All  manner  of  delays 
took  place.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  was 
consulted.  Lord  Lansdowne  was  consulted. 
The  wit  of  man  could  suggest  nothing  satis- 
factory. The  conditions  for  extracting  any 
satisfactory  solution  did  not  exist.  There 
was  nothing  better  to  be  done  than  to  ask  the 
ministers  who  had  resigned  to  resume  their 
places  and  muddle  on  as  they  best  could. 
It  is  not  enough  to  say  that  there  was  nothing 
better  to  be  done  : there  was  nothing  else  to 
be  done.  They  were  at  all  events  still  ad- 
ministering the  affairs  of  the  country,  and  no 
one  would  relieve  them  of  the  task.  Ipso 
facto  they  had  to  stay. 

The  ministers  returned  to  their  places  and 
resumed  the  Ecclesiastical  Titles  Bill.  It 
was  then  that  they  made  the  chaDge  in  its 
conditions  which  has  already  been  mentioned, 
and  thus  created  new  argument  against  them 
on  both  sides  of  the  House  of  Commons. 
They  struck  out  of  the  bill  every  word  that 
might  appear  like  an  encroachment  on  the 
Roman  Church  within  the  sphere  of  its  own 
ecclesiastical  operations,  and  made  it  simply 
an  Act  against  the  public  and  ostentatious  as- 
sumption of  illegal  titles.  The  bill  was 
wrangled  over  until  the  end  of  June,  and 
then  a large  number,  some  seventy,  of  the 
Irish  Catholic  members  publicly  seceded  from 
the  discussion  and  announced  that  they  would 
take  no  further  part  in  the  divisions.  On 
this  some  of  the  strongest  opponents  of  the 
Papal  aggression,  led  by  Sir  Frederick  Thes- 
iger, afterwards  Lord  Chelmsford,  brought 
in  a series  of  resolutions  intended  to  make  the 
bill  more  stringent  than  it  had  been  even  as 
originally  introduced.  The  object  of  the  res- 
olutions was  principally  to  give  the  power  of 
prosecuting  and  claiming  a penalty  to  any- 
body, provided  he  obtained  the  consent  of  the 
law  officers  of  the  Crown,  and  to  make  penal 
the  introduction  of  bulls.  The  Government 
opposed  the  introduction  of  these  amend- 
ments, and  were  put  in  the  awkward  position 
of  having  to  act  as  antagonists  of  the  party 
in  the  country  who  represented  the  strongest 
hostility  to  the  Papal  aggression.  Thus  for 
the  moment  the  author  of  the  Durham  letter 
was  seemingly  converted  into  a champion  of 
the  Roman  Catholic  side  of  the  controversy. 
His  championship  was  ineffective.  The  Irish 
members  took  no  part  in  the  controversy,  and 
the  Government  were  beaten  by  the  ultra- 
Protestant  party  on  every  division.  Lord 
John  Russell  was  bitterly  taunted  by  various 
of  his  opponents,  and  was  asked  with  indig- 
nation why  he  did  not  withdraw  the  bill 
when  it  ceased  to  be  any  longer  his  own 
scheme.  He  probably  thought  by  this  time 
that  it  really  made  little  matter  what  bill  was 
passed  so  long  as  any  bill  was  passed,  and 
that  the  best  thing  to  do  was  to  get  the  con- 
troversy out  of  the  way  by  any  process.  He 
did  not  therefore  withdraw  the  bill,  although 
Sir  Frederick  Thesiger  carried  all  his  strin- 
gent clauses.  When  the  measure  came  on 
for  a third  reading,  Lord  John  Russell  moved 
the  omission  of  the  added  clauses,  but  he  was 
defeated  by  large  majorities.  The  bill  was 
done  with  so  far  as  the  House  of  Commons 
was  concerned.  After  an  eloquent  and  pow- 
erful protest  from  Mr.  Gladstone  against  the 
measure,  as  one  disparaging  to  the  great 
principle  of  religious  freedom,  the  bill  was 
read  a third  time.  It  went  up  to  the  House 
of  Lords,  was  passed  there  without  alteration, 
although  not  without  opposition,  and  soon 
after  received  the  Royal  assent. 


This  was  practically  the  last  the  world 
heard  abotit  it.  In  the  Roman  Church  every- 
thing went  on  as  before.  The  new  Cardinal 
Archbishop  still  called  himself  Archbishop 
of  Westminster  ; some  of  the  Irish  prelates 
made  a point  of  ostentatiously  using  their 
territorial  titles,  in  letters  addressed  to  the 
ministers  themselves.  The  bitterness  of  feel- 
ing which  the  Papal  aggression  and  the  leg- 
islation against  it  had  called  up  did  not  in- 
deed pass  away  very  soon.  It  broke  out 
again  and  again,  sometimes  in  the  form  of 
very  serious  riot.  It  turned  away  at  many 
an  election  the  eyes  and  minds  of  the  constit- 
uencies from  questions  of  profound  and  gen- 
uine public  interest  to  dogmatic  controversy 
and  the  hates  of  jarring  sectaries.  It  fur- 
nished political  capital  for  John  Sadleir 
and  his  band,  and  kept  them  flourishing  for  a 
while  ; and  it  set  up  in  the  Irish  popular 
mind  a purely  imaginary  figure  of  Lord  John 
Russell,  who  became  regarded  as  the  malign 
enemy  of  the  Catholic  faith  and  of  all  religious 
liberty.  But  save  for  the  quarrels  aroused  at 
the  time,  the  act  of  the  Pope  and  the  Act  of 
Parliament  were  alike  dead  letters.  Nothing 
came  of  the  Papal  bull.  England  was  not 
restored  to  the  communion  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church.  The  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury and  the  Bishop  of  London  retained 
their  places  and  their  spiritual  jurisdiction  as 
before.  Cardinal  Wiseman  remained  only  a 
prelate  of  Roman  Catholics.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  Ecclesiastical  Titles  Act  was  never 
put  in  force.  Nobody  troubled  about  it. 
Many  years  after,  in  1871,  it  was  quietly  re- 
pealed. It  died  in  such  obscurity  that  the 
outer  public  hardly  knew  whether  it  was 
above  ground  or  below.  Certainly,  if  the 
whole  agitation  showed  that  England  was 
thoroughly  Protestant,  it  also  showed  that 
English  Protestants  had  not  much  of  the  per- 
secuting spirit.  They  had  no  inclination  to 
molest  "their  Catholic  neighbors,  and  only 
asked  to  be  let  alone.  The  Pope,  they  be- 
lieved, had  insulted  them  ; they  resented  the 
insult : that  was  all. 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  EXHIBITION  IN  HYDE  PARK. 

The  first  of  May,  1851,  will  always  be 
memorable  as  the  day  on  which  the  Great 
Exhibition  was  opened  in  Hyde  Park.  The 
year  1851,  indeed,  is  generally  associated  in 
the  memory  of  Englishmen  with  that  first 
Great  International  Exhibition.  As  we  look 
back  upon  it  pleasant  recollections  come  up 
of  the  great  glass  palace  in  Hyde  Park,  the 
palace  “ upsp ringing  from  the  verdant  sod,” 
which  Thackeray  described  so  gracefully  and 
with  so  much  poetic  feeling.  The  strange 
crowds  of  the  curious  of  all  provinces  and  all 
nations  are  seen  again.  The  marvellous  and 
at  that  time  wholly  unprecedented  collection 
of  the  products  of  all  countries  ; the  glitter 
of  the  Koh-i-Noor,  the  palm  trees  beneath 
the  glass  roof,  the  leaping  fountains,  the  stat- 
uary, the  ores,  the  ingots,  the  huge  blocks  of 
coal,  the  lace-work,  the  loom-work,  the  Ori- 
ental stuffs — all  these  made  on  the  mind  of 
the  ordinary  inexpert  a confused  impression 
of  lavishness  and  profusion  and  order  and  fan- 
tastic beauty  which  was  then  wholly  novel, 
and  could  hardly  be  recalled  except  in  mere 
memory.  The  novelty  of  the  experiment 
was  that  which  made  it  specially  memorable. 
Many  exhibitions  of  a similar  kind  have  tak- 
en place  since.  Some  of  these  far  surpassed 
that  of  Hyde  Park  in  the  splendor  and  variety 
of  the  collections  brought  together.  Two  of 
them  at  least — those  of  Paris  in  1867  and 
1878 — were  infinitely  superior  in  the  array 
and  display  of  the  products,  the  dresses,  the 
inhabitants  of  far-divided  countries.  But  the 
impression  which  the  Hyde  Park  Exhibition 
made  upon  the  ordinary  mind  was  like  that 
of  the  boy’s  first  visit  to  the  play — an  impres- 
sion never  to  be  equalled,  no  matter  by  what 
far  superior  charm  of  spectacle  it  may  in  after 
years  again  and  again  be  followed. 

Golden  indeed  were  the  expectations  with 


which  hopeful  people  welcomed  the  Exhi- 
bition of  1851.  It  was  the  first  organized  to 
gather  all  the  representatives  of  the  world’s 
industry  into  one  great  fair  ; and  there  were 
those  who  seriously  expected  that  men  who 
had  once  been  prevailed  upon  to  meet  together 
in  friendly  and  peaceful  rivalry  would  never 
again  be  persuaded  to  meet  in  rivalry  of  a 
fiercer  kind.  It  seems  extraordinary  now  to 
think  that  any  sane  person  can  have  indulged 
in  such  expectations,  or  can  have  imagined 
that  the  tremendous  forces  generated  by  the 
rival  interests,  ambitions,  and  passions  of 
races  could  be  subdued  into  harmonious  co- 
operation by  the  good  sense  and  good  feeling 
born  of  a friendly  meeting.  The  Hyde  Park 
Exhibition  and  all  the  exhibitions  that  follow'- 
ed  it  have  not  as  yet  made  the  slightest  per- 
ceptible difference  in  the  warlike  tendencies 
of  nations.  The  Hyde  Park  Exhibition  was 
often  described  as  the  festival  to  open  the 
long  reign  of  Peace.  It  might  as  a mere 
matter  of  chronology  be  called  without  any 
impropriety  the  festival  to  celebrate  the  close 
of  the  short  reign  of  Peace.  From  that  year, 
1851,  it  may  be  said  fairly  enough  that  the 
world  has  hardly  known  a week  of  peace. 
The  coup  d'etat  in  France  closed  the  year. 
The  Crimean  War  began  almost  immediately 
after,  and  was  followed  by  the  Indian  Muti- 
ny, and  that  by  the  war  between  France  and 
Austria,  the  long  civil  war  in  the  United 
States,  the  Neapolitan  enterprises  of  Garibal- 
di, and  the  Mexican  intervention,  until  we 
come  to  the  war  between  Austria,  Prussia, 
and  Denmark  ; the  short  sharp  struggle  for 
German  supremacy  between  Austria  and 
Prussia,  the  war  between  France  and  Ger- 
many, and  the  war  between  Russia  and  Tur- 
key. Such  were,  in  brief  summary,  the 
events  that  quickly  followed  the  great  inau- 
gurating Festival  of  Peace  in  1851.  Of  course 
those  who  organized  the  Great  Exhibition 
were  in  no  way  responsible  for  the  exalted 
and  extravagant  expectations  which  were 
formed  as  to  its  effects  on  the  history  of  the 
world  and  the  elements  of  human  nature. 
But  there  was  a great  deal  too  much  of  the 
dithyrambic  about  the  style  in  which  many 
writers  and  speakers  thought  fit  to  describe 
the  Exhibition.  With  some  of  these  all  this 
was  the  result  of  genuine  enthusiasm.  In 
other  instances  the  extravagance  was  in- 
dulged in  by  persons  not  habitually  extrava- 
gant, but,  on  the  contrary,  very  sober,  me- 
thodical, and  calculating,  who  by  the  very 
fact  of  their  possessing  eminently  these  qual- 
ities were  led  into  a total  misconception  of 
tie  influence  of  such  assemblages  of  men. 
These  calm  and  wise  persons  assumed  that 
because  they  themselves,  if  shown  that  a cer- 
tain course  of  conduct  ivas  for  their  material 
and  moral  benefit,  would  instantly  follow  it 
and  keep  to  it,  it  must  therefore  follow  that 
all  peoples  and  states  were  amenable  to  the 
same  excellent  principle  of  self-discipline. 
War  is  a foolish  and  improvident,  not  to  say 
immoral  and  atrocious,  way  of  trying  to  ad- 
just our  disputes,  they  argued  ; let  peoples 
far  divided  in  geographical  situation  be  only 
brought  together  and  induced  to  talk  this 
over,  and  see  how  much  more  profitable  and 
noble  is  the  rivalry  of  peace  in  trade  and 
commerce,  and  they  will  never  think  of  the 
coarse  and  brutal  arbitrament  of  battle  any 
more.  Not  a few  others,  it  must  be  owned, 
indulged  in  the  high-flown  glorification  of 
the  reign  of  peace  to  come  because  the  Exhi- 
bition was  the  special  enterprise  of  the  Prince 
Consort,  and  they  had  a natural  aptitude  for 
the  production  of  courtly  strains.  But  among 
all  these  classes  of  paean-singers  it  did  hap- 
pen that  a good  deal  of  unmerited  discredit 
was  cast  upon  the  results  of  the  Great  Exhi- 
bition, for  the  enterprise  -was  held  responsi- 
ble for  illusions  it  had  of  itself  nothing  to  do 
with  creating,  and  disappointments  which 
were  no  consequence  of  any  failure  on  its 
part.  Even  upon  trade  and  production 
it  is  very  easy  to  exaggerate  the  beneficent 
influences  of  an  international  exhibition. 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


73 


But  that  such  enterprises  have  some  bene- 
ficial influence  is  beyond  doubt ; and  that 
they  are  interesting,  instructive,  well  cal- 
culated to  educate  and  refine  the  minds  of 
nations,  may  be  admitted  by  the  least  enthu- 
siastic of  men. 

The  first  idea  of  the  Exhibition  was  con- 
ceived by  Prince  Albert ; and  it  was  his  en- 
ergy and  influence  which  succeeded  in  carry- 
ing the  idea  into  practical  execution.  Prob- 
ably no  influence  less  great  than  that  which 
his  station  gave  to  the  Prince  would  have 
prevailed  to  carry  to  success  so  difficult  an 
enterprise.  There  had  been  industrial  ex- 
hibitions before  on  a small  scale  and  of  local 
limit  ; but  if  the  idea  of  an  exhibition  in 
which  all  the  nations  of  the  world  were  to 
compete  had  occurred  to  other  minds  before, 
as  it  may  well  have  done,  it  was  merely  as  a 
vague  thought,  a day-dream,  without  any 
claim  to  a practical  realization.  Prince  Al- 
bert was  President  of  the  Society  of  Arts, 
and  this  position  secured  him  a platform  for 
the  effective  promulgation  of  his  ideas.  On 
June  30,  1849,  he  called  a meeting  of  the 
Royal  Society  at  Buckingham  Palace.  He 
proposed  that  the  Society  should  undertake 
the  initiative  in  the  promotion  of  an  exhi- 
bition of  the  works  of  all  nations.  The  main 
idea  of  Prince  Albert  was  that  the  exhibition 
should  be  divided  into  four  great  sections — 
the  first  to  contain  raw  materials  and  prod- 
uce ; the  second  machinery  for  ordinary  in- 
dustrial and  productive  purposes  and  mechan- 
ical inventions  of  the  more  ingenious  kind  ; 
the  third  manufactured  articles ; and  the 
fourth  sculpture,  models,  and  the  illustra- 
tions of  the  plastic  arts  generally.  The  idea 
was  at  once  taken  up  by  the  Society  of  Arts, 
and  by  their  agency  spread  abroad.  On 
October  17  in  the  same  year  a meeting  of 
merchants  and  bankers  was  held  in  London 
to  promote  the  success  of  the  undertaking. 
In  the  first  few  days  of  1850  a formal  Com- 
mission was  appointed  “ for  the  promotion 
of  the  Exhibition  of  the  Works  of  All  Na- 
tions, to  be  holden  in  the  year  1851.  ” Prince 
Albert  was  appointed  President  of  the  Com- 
mission. The  enterprise  was  now  fairly 
launched.  A few  days  after  a meeting  was 
held  in  the  Mansion  House  to  raise  funds  in 
aid  of  the  Exhibition,  and  ten  thousand 
pounds  was  at  once  collected.  This  of  course 
was  but  the  beginning,  and  a guarantee  fund 
of  two  hundred  thousand  pounds  was  very 
soon  obtained. 

On  March  31  in  the  same  year  the  Lord  May- 
or of  London  gave  a banquet  at  the  Mansion 
House  to  the  chief  magistrates  of  the  cities, 
towns,  and  boroughs  of  the  United  Kingdom, 
for  the  purpose  of  inviting  their  co-operation 
in  support  of  the  undertaking.  Prince  Albert 
was  present,  and  spoke.  He  had  cultivated 
the  art  of  speaking  with  much  success,  and 
had  almost  entirely  overcome  whatever  diffi- 
culty stood  in  his  way  from  his  foreign  birth 
and  education.  He  ne  ver  quite  lost  his  foreign 
accent.  No  man  coming  to  a new  country  at 
the  age  of  manhood  as  Prince  Albert  did  ever 
acquired  the  new  tongue  in  such  a manner 
as  to  lose  all  trace  of  a foreign  origin  ; and 
to  the  end  of  his  career  Prince  Albert  spoke 
with  an  accent  which,  however  carefully 
trained,  still  betrayed  its  early  habitudes. 
But,  except  for  this  slight  blemish,  Prince 
Albert  may  be  said  to  have  acquired  a per- 
fect mastery  of  the  English  language  ; and 
he  became  a remarkably  good  public  speak- 
er. He  had  indeed  nothing  of  the  orator  in 
his  nature.  It  was  but  the  extravagance  of 
courtliness  which  called  his  polished  and 
thoughtful  speeches  oratory.  In  the  Prince’s 
nature  there  was  neither  the  passion  nor  the 
poetry  that  are  essential  to  genuine  elo- 
quence ; nor  were  the  occasions  on  which  he 
addressed  the  English  people  likely  to  stim- 
ulate a man  to  eloquence.  But  his  style  of 
speaking  was  clear,  thoughtful,  stately,  and 
sometimes  even  noble.  It  exactly  suited  its 
purpose.  It  was  that  of  a man  who  did  not 
set  up  for  an  orator ; and  who,  when  he 


spoke,  wished  that  his  ideas  rather  than  his 
words  should  impress  his  hearers.  It  is  very 
much  to  be  doubted  whether  the  English  pub- 
lic would  be  quite  delighted  to  have  a prince 
who  was  also  a really  great  orator.  Genuine 
eloquence  would  probably  impress  a great 
many  respectable  persons  as  a gift  not  exactly 
suited  to  a prince.  There  is  even  still  a cer- 
tain distrust  of  the  artistic  in  the  English 
mind  as  of  a sort  of  thing  which  is  very  proper 
in  professional  writers  and  painters  and 
speakers,  but  which  would  hardly  become 
persons  of  the  highest  station.  Prince  Al- 
bert probably  spoke  just  as  well  as  he  could 
have  done  with  successful  effect  upon  his 
English  audiences.  At  the  dinner  in  the 
Mansion  House  he  spoke  with  great  clearness 
and  grace  of  the  purposes  of  the  Great  Exhi- 
bition. It  was,  he  said,  to  “ give  the  world 
a true  test,  a living  picture,  of  the  point  of 
industrial  development  at  which  the  whole  of 
mankind  has  arrived,  and  a new  starting- 
point  from  which  all  nations  will  be  able  to 
direct  their  further  exertions.” 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  the 
project  of  the  Great  Exhibition  advanced 
wholly  without  opposition.  Many  persons 
were  disposed  to  sneer  at  it ; many  were 
sceptical  about  its  doing  any  good  ; not  a few 
still  regarded  Prince  Albert  as  a foreigner 
and  a pedant,  and  were  slow  to  believe  that 
anything  really  practical  was  likely  to  be  de- 
veloped under  his  impulse  and  protection. 
A very  whimsical  sort  of  opposition  was 
raised  in  the  House  of  Commons  by  a once 
famous  eccentric,  the  late  Colonel  Sibthorp. 
Sibthorp  was  a man  who  might  have  been 
drawn  by  Smollett.  His  grotesque  gestures, 
his  overboiling  energy,  his  uncouth  appear- 
ance, his  huge  moustache,  marked  him  out 
as  an  object  of  curiosity  in  any  crowd.  He 
was  the  subject  of  one  of  the  most  amusing 
pieces  of  impromptu  parody  ever  thrown  off 
by  a public  speaker— that  in  which  O’Con- 
nell travestied  the  famous  lines  about  the 
three  poets  in  three  different  regions  born, 
and  pictured  three  colonels  in  three  different 
countries  born,  winding  up  with  : “ The 

force  of  Nature  could  no  farther  go  ; to 
beard  the  one  she  shaved  the  other  two.” 
One  of  the  gallant  Sibtliorp’s  especial  weak- 
nesses was  a distrust  and  detestation  of  all 
foreigners.  Foreigners  he  lumped  together 
as  a race  of  beings  whose  chief  characteristics 
were  Popery  and  immorality.  While  three 
fourths  of  the  promoters  of  the  Exhibition 
were  dwelling  with  the  strongest  emphasis 
on  the  benefit  it  would  bring  by  drawing  into 
London  the  representatives  of  all  nations, 
Colonel  Sibthorp  was  denouncing  this  ag- 
glomeration of  foreigners  as  the  greatest 
curse  that  could  fall  upon  England.  He  re- 
garded foreigners  much  as  Isaac  of  York,  in 
“ Ivanhoe,”  regards  the  Knight  Templars. 
“ When,”  asks  Isaac  in  bitter  remonstrance, 
“ did  Templars  breathe  aught  but  cruelty  to 
men  and  dishonor  to  women?”  Colonel 
Sibthorp  kept  asking  some  such  question 
with  regard  to  foreigners  in  general  and  their 
expected  concourse  to  the  Exhibition.  In 
language  somewhat  too  energetic  and  broad 
for  our  more  polite  time  he  warned  the 
House  of  Commons  and  the  country  of  the 
consequences  to  English  morals  which  must 
come  of  the  influx  of  a crowd  of  foreigners 
at  a given  season.  “Take  care,”  he  ex- 
claimed in  the  House  of  Commons,  ‘ ‘ of  your 
wives  and  daughters  ; take  care  of  your  prop- 
erty and  your  lives  !”  He  declared  that  he 
prayed  for  some  tremendous  hailstorm  or 
visitation  of  lightning  to  be  sent  from  heaven 
expressly  for  the  purpose  of  destroying  in 
advance  the  building  destined  for  the  ill- 
omened  Exhibition.  When  Free  Trade  had 
left  nothing  else  needed  to  complete  the  ruin 
of  the  nation,  the  enemy  of  mankind,  he  de- 
clared, had  inspired  us  with  the  idea  of  the 
Great  Exhibition,  so  that  the  foreigners  who 
had  first  robbed  us  of  our  trade  might  now 
be  enabled  to  rob  us  of  our  honor. 

The  objections  raised  to  the  Exhibition 


were  not  by  any  means  confined  to  Colonel 
Sibthorp  or  to  his  kind  of  argument.  After 
some  consideration  the  Royal  Commissioners 
had  fixed  upon  Hyde  Park  as  the  best  site  for 
the  great  building,  and  many  energetic  and 
some  influential  voices  were  raised  in  fierce 
outcry  against  what  was  called  the  profana- 
tion of  the  park.  It  was  argued  that  the 
public  use  of  Hyde  Park  would  be  destroyed 
by  the  Exhibition  ; that  the  park  would  be 
utterly  spoiled  ; that  its  beauty  could  never 
be  restored.  A petition  was  presented  by 
Lord  Campbell  to  the  House  of  Lords  against 
the  occupation  of  any  part  of  Hyde  "Park 
with  the  Exhibition  building.  Lord  Brough- 
am supported  the  petition  with  his  charac- 
teristic impetuosity  and  vehemence.  He  de- 
nounced the  Attorney-General  with  indig- 
nant eloquence  because  that  official  had  de- 
clined to  file  an  application  to  the  Court  of 
Chancery  for  an  injunction  to  stay  any  pro- 
ceeding with  the  proposed  building  in  the 
park.  He  denounced  the  House  of  Lords 
itself  for  what  he  considered  its  servile  defer- 
ence to  royalty  in  the  matter  of  the  Exhi- 
bition and  its  site.  He  declared  that  when 
he  endeavored  to  raise  the  question  there  he 
was  received  in  dead  silence  ; and  he  asserted 
that  an  effort  to  bring  on  a discussion  in  the 
House  of  Commons  was  received  with  a 
silence  equally  profound  and  servile.  Such 
facts,  he  shouted,  only  showed  more  pain- 
fully “ that  absolute  prostration  of  the  under- 
standing which  takes  place  even  in  the  minds 
of  the  bravest  when  the  word  prince  is  men- 
tioned in  this  country  !”  It  is  probably  true 
enough  that  only  the  influence  of  a prince 
could  have  carried  the  scheme  to  success 
against  the  storms  of  opposition  that  began 
to  blow  at  various  periods  and  from  different 
points.  Undoubtedly  a vast  number,  prob- 
ably the  great  majority,  of  those  who  sup- 
ported the  enterprise  in  the  beginning  did  so 
simply  because  it  was  the  project  of  a prince. 
Their  numbers  and  their  money  enabled  it  to 
be  carried  on,  and  secured  it  the  test  of  the 
world’s  examination  and  approval.  In  that 
sense  the  very  servility  which  accepts  with 
delight  whatever  a prince  proposes  stood  the 
Exhibition  in  good  stead  ; a courtier  may 
plead  that  if  English  people  in  general  had 
been  more  independent  and  less  given  to  ad- 
miration of  princes,  the  excellent  project  de- 
vised by  Prince  Albert  would  never  have  had 
a fair  trial.  Many  times  during  its  progress 
the  Prince  himself  trembled  for  the  success  of 
his  scheme.  Many  a time  he  must  have  felt 
inclined  to  renounce  it  or  at  least  to  regret 
that  he  had  ever  taken  it  up. 

Absurd  as  the  opposition  to  the  scheme  may 
now  seem,  it  is  certain  that  a great  many 
sensible  persons  thought  the  moment  singu- 
larly inopportune  for  the  gathering  of  large 
crowds,  and  were  satisfied  that  some  incon- 
venient, if  not  dangerous,  public  demonstra- 
tion must  be  provoked.  The  smouldering 
embers  of  Chartism,  they  said,  were  every- 
where under  society’s  feet.  The  crowds  of 
foreigners  whom  Colonel  Sibthorp  so  dreaded 
would,  calmer  people  said,  naturally  include 
large  numbers  of  the  “ Reds”  of  all  Conti- 
nental nations,  who  would  be  only  too  glad 
to  coalesce  with  Chartism  and  discontent  of 
all  kinds,  for  the  purpose  of  disturbing  the 
peace  of  London.  The  agitation  caused  by 
the  Papal  aggression  was  still  in  full  force 
and  flame.  By  an  odd  coincidence  the  first 
column  of  the  Exhibition  building  had  been 
set  up  in  Hyde  Park  almost  at  the  same 
moment  with  the  issue  of  the  Papal  bull  es- 
tablishing a Roman  Catholic  hierarchy  in 
England.  These  conditions  looked  gloomy 
for  the  project.  “ The  opponents  of  the  Ex- 
hibition,” wrote  the  Prince  himself,  “ work 
with  might  and  main  to  throw  all  the  old 
women  here  into  a panic  and  to  drive  myself 
crazy.  The  strangers,  they  give  out,  arc  cer- 
tain to  commence  a thorough  revolution  here, 
to  murder  Victoria  and  myself,  and  to  pro- 
claim the  Red  Republic  in  England  ; the 
plague  is  certain  to  ensue  from  the  conflu- 


74 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


ence  of  such  vast  multitudes,  and  to  swallow 
up  those  whom  the  increased  price  of  every- 
thing has  not  already  swept  away.  For  all 
this  I am  to  be  responsible,  and  against  all 
this  I have  to  make  efficient  provision.” 
Most  of  the  Continental  sovereigns  looked 
coldly  on  the  undertaking.  The  King  of 
Prussia  took  such  alarm  at  the  thought  of  the 
Red  Republicans  whom  the  Exhibition  would 
draw  together,  that  at  first  he  positively  pro- 
hibited his  brother,  then  Prince  of  Prussia, 
now  German  Emperor,  from  attending  the 
opening  ceremonial  ; and  though  he  after- 
wards withdrew  the  prohibition,  he  remained 
full  of  doubts  and  fears  as  to  the  personal 
safety  of  any  royal  or  princely  personage 
found  in  Hyde  Park  on  the  opening  day. 
The  Duke  of  Cambridge,  being  appealed  to 
on  the  subject,  acknowledged  himself  also 
full  of  apprehensions.  The  objections  to  the 
site  continued  to  grow  up  to  a certain  time. 
“ The  Exhibition,”  Prince  Albert  wrote  once 
to  Baron  Stockmar,  his  friend  and  adviser, 
“ is  now  attacked  furiously  by  the  Times , 
and  the  House  of  Commons  is  going  to  drive 
us  out  of  the  Park.  There  is  immense  ex- 
citement on  the  subject.  If  we  are  driven 
out  of  the  Park  the  work  is  done  for.”  At 
one  time,  indeed,  this  result  seemed  highly 
probable  ; but  public  opinion  gradually  un- 
derwent a change,  and  the  opposition  to  the 
site  was  defeated  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons by  a large  majority. 

Even,  however,  when  the  question  of  the 
site  had  been  disposed  of,  there  remained 
immense  difficulties  in  the  way.  The  press 
was  not  on  the  whole  very  favorable  to  the 
project ; Punch,  in  particular,  was  hardly 
ever  weary  of  making  fun  of  it.  Such  a pro- 
ject, while  yet  only  in  embryo,  undoubtedly 
furnished  many  points  on  which  satire  could 
fasten  ; and  nothing  short  of  complete  suc- 
cess could  save  it  from  falling  under  a moun- 
tain of  ridicule.  No  half  success  would  have 
rescued  it.  The  ridicule  was  naturally  pro- 
voked and  aggravated  to  an  unspeakable  de- 
gree by  the  hyperbolical  expectations  and  pre- 
posterous dithyrambics  of  some  of  the  well- 
meaning  but  unwise  and  somewhat  too  ob- 
streperously loyal  supporters  of  the  enter- 
prise. To  add  to  all  this,  as  the  time  for  the 
opening  drew  near,  some  of  the  foreign  di- 
plomatists in  London  began  to  sulk  at  the 
whole  project.  There  were  small  points  of 
objection  made  about  the  position  and  func- 
tions of  foreign  ambassadors  at  the  opening 
ceremonial,  and  what  the  Queen  and  Prince 
meant  for  politeness  was  in  one  instance  at 
least  near  being  twisted  into  cause  of  offence. 
Up  to  the  last  moment  it  was  not  quite  cer- 
tain whether  an  absurd  diplomatic  quarrel 
might  not  have  been  part  of  the  inaugural 
ceremonies  of  the  opening  day. 

The  Prince  did  not  despair,  how  ever, and  the 
project  went  on.  There  was  a great  deal  of 
difficulty  in  selecting  a plan  for  the  building. 
Huge  structures  of  brickwork,  looking  like 
enormous  railway  sheds,  costly  and  hideous 
at  once,  were  proposed  ; it  seemed  almost 
certain  that  some  one  of  them  must  be  chos- 
en. Happily,  a sudden  inspiration  struck 
Mr.  (afterwards  Sir  Joseph)  Paxton,  who 
was  then  in  charge  of  the  Duke  of  Devon- 
shire’s superb  grounds  at  Chatsworth.  Why 
not  try  glass  and  iron  ? he  asked  himself. 
Why  not  build  a palace  of  glass  and  iron 
large  enough  to  cover  all  the  intended  con- 
tents of  the  Exhibition,  and  which  should  be 
at  once  light,  beautiful,  and  cheap  ? Mr. 
Paxton  sketched  out  his  plan  hastily,  and  the 
idea  was  eagerly  accepted  by  the  Royal  Com- 
missioners. He  made  many  improvements 
afterwards  in  his  design  ; but  the  palace  of 
glass  and  iron  arose  within  the  specified  time 
on  the  green  turf  of  Hyde  Park.  The  idea 
so  happily  hit  upon  was  serviceable  in  more 
ways  than  one  to  the  success  of  the  Exhi- 
bition. It  made  the  building  itself  as  much 
an  object  of  curiosity  and  wonder  as  the  col- 
lections under  its  crystal  roof.  Of  the  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  who  came  to  the  Exhi- 


bition, a goodly  proportion  were  drawn  to 
Hyde  Park  rather  by  a wish  to  see  Paxton’s 
palace  of  glass  than  all  thew'onders  of  indus- 
trial and  plastic  art  that  it  enclosed.  Indeed, 
Lord  Palmerston,  writing  to  Lord  Normanby 
on  the  day  after  the  opening  of  the  Exhi- 
bition, said  : “ The  building  itself  is  far  more 
worth  seeing  than  anything  in  it,  though 
many  of  its  contents  are  worthy  of  admira- 
tion.” Perhaps  the  glass  building  was  like 
the  Exhibition  project  itself  in  one  respect. 
It  did  not  bring  about  the  revolution  which 
it  was  confidently  expected  to  create.  Glass 
and  iron  have  not  superseded  brick  and 
stone,  any  more  than  competitions  of  peace- 
ful industry  have  banished  arbitrament  by 
war.  But  the  building,  like  the  Exhibition 
itself,  fulfilled  admirably  its  more  modest  and 
immediate  purpose,  and  was  in  that  way  a 
complete  success.  The  structure  of  glass  is 
indeed  in  every  mind  inseparably  associated 
with  the  event  and  the  year. 

The  Queen  herself  has  written  a very  in- 
teresting account  of  the  success  of  the  open- 
ing day.  Her  description  is  interesting  as  an 
expression  of  the  feelings  of  the  writer,  the 
sense  of  profound  relief  and  rapture,  as  well 
as  for  the  sake  of  the  picture  it  gives  of  the 
ceremonial  itself.  The  enthusiasm  of  the 
wife  over  the  complete  success  of  the  project 
on  which  her  husband  had  set  his  heart  and 
staked  his  name  is  simple  and  touching.  If 
the  importance  of  the  undertaking  and  the 
amount  of  fame  it  was  to  bring  to  its  author 
may  seem  a little  overdone,  not  many  readers 
will  complain  of  the  womanly  and  wifely 
feeling  which  could  not  be  denied  such  fer- 
vent expression.  “ The  great  event,”  wrote 
the  Queen,  “ has  taken  place — a complete 
and  beautiful  triumph — a glorious  and  touch- 
ing sight,  one  which  I shall  ever  be  proud  of 
for  my  beloved  Albert  and  my  country.  . . . 
The  park  presented  a wonderful  spectacle — 
crowds  streaming  through  it,  carriages  and 
troops  passing,  quite  like  the  Coronation  day, 
and  for  me  the  same  anxiety  — no,  much 
greater  anxiety,  on  account  of  my  beloved 
Albert.  The  day  was  bright,  and  all  bustle 
and  excitement.  . . . The  Green  Park  and 
Hyde  Park  were  one  densely  crowded  mass 
of  human  beings,  in  the  highest  good  humor 
and  most  enthusiastic.  I never  saw  Hyde 
Park  look  as  it  did — as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach.  A little  rain  fell  just  as  we  started, 
but  before  we  came  near  the  Crystal  Palace 
the  sun  shone  and  gleamed  upon  the  gigantic 
edifice,  upon  which  the  flags  of  all  nations 
were  floating.  . . . The  glimpse  of  the  tran- 
sept through  the  iron  gates,  the  waving 
palms,  flowers,  statues,  myriads  of  people 
filling  the  galleries  and  seats  around,  with 
the  flourish  of  trumpets  as  we  entered,  gave 
us  a sensation  which  I can  never  forget,  and 
I felt  much  moved.  . . . The  sight  as  we 
came  to  the  middle  was  magical — so  vast,  so 
glorious,  so  touching — one  felt,  as  so  many 
did  whom  I have  since  spoken  to,  filled  with 
devotion — more  so  than  by  any  service  I have 
ever  heard.  The  tremendous  cheers,  the  joy 
expressed  in  every  face,  the  immensity  of  the 
building,  the  mixture  of  palms,  flowers, 
trees,  statues,  fountains  ; the  organ  (with  two 
hundred  instruments  and  six  hundred  voices, 
which  sounded  like  nothing),  and  my  beloved 
husband  the  author  of  this  peace  festival, 
which  united  tfie  industry  of  all  nations  of 
the  earth — all  this  was  moving  indeed,  and  it 
was  and  is  a day  to  live  for  ever.  God  bless 
my  dearest  Albert ! God  bless  my  dearest 
country,  which  has  shown  itself  so  great  to- 
day ! One  felt  so  grateful  to  the  great  God, 
who  seemed  to  pervade  all  and  to  bless  all.” 

The  success  of  the  opening  day  was  indeed 
undoubted.  There  were  nearly  thirty  thou- 
sand people  gathered  together  within  the 
building,  and  nearly  three  quarters  of  a mil- 
lion of  persons  lined  the  way  between  the  Ex- 
hibition and  Buckingham  Palace  ; and  yet 
no  accident  whatever  occurred,  nor  had  the 
police  any  trouble  imposed  on  them  by  the 
conduct  of  anybody  in  the  crowd.  “ It  was 


impossible,”  wrote  Lord  Palmerston,  “ for 
the  invited  guests  of  a lady’s  drawing-room 
to  have  conducted  themselves  with  more  per- 
fect propriety  than  did  this  sea  of  human 
beings.”  It  is  needless  to  say  that  there 
were  no  hostile  demonstrations  by  Red  Repub- 
licans, or  malignant  Chartists,  or  infuriated 
I Irish  Catholics.  The  one  thing  which  es- 
pecially struck  foreign  observers,  and  to 
which  many  eloquent  pens  and  tongues  bore 
witness,  was  the  orderly  conduct  of  the 
people.  Nor  did  the  subsequent  history  of 
the  Exhibition  in  any  way  belie  the  promise 
of  its  opening  day.  It  continued  to  attract 
delighted  crowds  to  the  last,  and  more  than 
once  held  within  its  precincts  at  one  moment 
nearly  a hundred  thousand  persons,  a con- 
course large  enough  to  have  made  the  popu- 
lation of  a respectable  Continental  capital. 
In  another  way  the  Exhibition  proved  even 
more  successful  than  was  anticipated.  There 
had  been  some  difficulty  in  raising  money  in 
the  first  instance,  and  it  was  thought  some- 
thing of  a patriotic  risk  wThen  a few  spirited 
citizens  combined  to  secure  the  accomplish- 
ment of  the  undertaking  by  means  of  a guar- 
antee fund.  But  the  guarantee  fund  became 
in  the  end  merely  one  of  the  forms  and  cere- 
monials of  the  Exhibition  ; for  the  undertak- 
ing not  onlj-  covered  its  expenses,  but  left  a 
huge  sum  of  money  in  the  hands  of  the  Royal 
Commissioners.  The  Exhibition  was  closed 
by  Prince  Albert  on  October  15.  That  at 
least  may  be  described  as  the  closing  day,  for 
it  was  then  that  the  awards  of  prizes  were 
made  known  in  presence  of  the  Prince  and  a 
large  concourse  of  people.  The  Exhibition 
itself  had  actually  been  closed  to  the  general 
public  on  the  eleventh  of  the  month.  It  has 
been  imitated  again  and  again.  It  was  fol- 
lowing by  an  exhibition  in  Dublin  ; an  exhi- 
bition of  the  paintings  and  sculptures  of  all 
nations  in  Manchester ; three  great  exhi- 
bitions in  Paris  ; the  International  Exhibition 
in  Kensington  in  1862 — the  enterprise  too  of 
Prince  Albert,  although  not  destined  to  have 
his  presence  at  its  opening  ; an  exhibition  at 
Vienna,  one  in  Philadelphia,  and  various 
others.  Where  all  nations  seem  to  have 
agreed  to  pay  Prince  Albert’s  enterprise  the 
compliment  of  imitation,  it  seems  superfluous 
to  say  that  it  was  a success.  Time  has  so 
toned  down  our  expectations  in  regard  to 
these  enterprises  that  no  occasion  now  arises 
for  the  feeling  of  disappointment  which  was 
long  associated  in  the  minds  of  once-sanguine 
persons  with  the  Crystal  Palace  of  Hyde 
Park.  We  look  on  such  exhibitions  now  as 
useful  agencies  in  the  work  of  industrial  de- 
velopment, and  in  promoting  the  intercourse 
of  peoples,  and  thus  co-operating  with  vari- 
ous other  influences  in  the  general  business 
of  civilization . But  the  impressions  produced 
by  the  Hyde  Park  Exhibition  were  unique. 
It  was  the  first  thing  of  the  kind  ; the  gather- 
ing of  peoples  it  brought  together  was  as 
new,  odd,  and  interesting  as  the  glass  build- 
ing in  which  the  industry  of  the  world  was 
displayed.  For  the  first  time  in  their  lives 
Londoners  saw  the  ordinary  aspect  of  Lon- 
don distinctly  modified  and  changed  by  the 
incursion  of  foreigners  who  came  to  take 
part  in  or  to  look  at  our  Exhibition.  Lon- 
don seemed  to  be  playing  at  holiday  in  a 
strange  carnival  sort  of  way  during  the  time 
the  Exhibition  was  open.  ’ The  Hyde  Park 
enterprise  bequeathed  nothing  very  tangible 
or  distinct  to  the  world,  except  indeed  the 
palace  which,  built  out  of  its  fabric,  not  its 
ruins,  so  gracefully  ornaments  one  of  the  soft 
hills  of  Sydenham.  But  the  memory  of  the 
Exhibition  itself  is  very  distinct  with  all  who 
saw  it.  None  of  its  followers  was  exactly 
like  it,  or  could  take  its  place  in  the  recollec- 
tion of  those  who  were  its  contemporaries. 
In  a year  made  memorable  by  many  political 
events  of  the  greatest  importance,  of  dis- 
turbed and  tempestuous  politics  abroad  and 
at  home,  of  the  deaths  of  many  illustrious 
men,  and  the  failure  of  many  splendid  hopes, 
the  Exhibition  in  Hyde  Park  still  holds  its 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


75 


place  in  memory — not  for  what  it  brought  or 
accomplished,  but  simply  for  itself,  its  sur- 
roundings, and  its  house  of  glass. 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

PALMERSTON. 

The  death  of  Sir  Robert  Peel  had  left 
Lord  Palmerston  the  most  prominent  if  not 
actually  the  most  influential  among  the  states- 
men of  England.  Palmerston’s  was  a stren- 
uous self-asserting  character.  He  loved, 
whenever  he  had  an  opportunity,  to  make  a 
stroke,  as  he  fraquently  put  it  himself,  “ off 
his  own  bat.”  He  had  given  himself  up 
to  fhe  study  of  foreign  affairs  as  no  minister 
of  his  time  had  done.  He  had  a peculiar 
capacity  for  understanding  foreign  politics 
and  people  as  well  as  foreign  languages  ; and 
he  had  come  somewhat  to  pique  himself 
upon  his  knowledge.  As  Bacon  said  that  he 
had  taken  all  learning  for  his  province,  Pal- 
merston seemed  to  have  made  up  his  mind 
that  he  had  taken  all  European  affairs  for 
his  province.  His  sympathies  were  marked- 
ly liberal.  As  opinions  went  then,  they 
might  have  been  considered  among  states- 
men almost  revolutionary  ; for  the  Conserva- 
tive of  our  day  is  to  the  full  as  liberal  as  the 
average  Liberal  of  1848  and  1850.  In  all  the 
popular  movements  going  on  throughout  the 
Continent  Palmerston’s  sympathies  were  gen- 
erally with  the  peoples  and  against  the  gov- 
ernments ; while  he  had,  on  the  other  hand, 
a very  strong  contempt,  which  he  took  no 
pains  to  conceal,  even  for  the  very  best  class 
of  the  Continental  demagogue.  It  was  not, 
however,  in  his  sympathies  that  Palmerston 
differed  from  most  of  his  colleagues.  He 
was  not  more  liberal  even  in  his  views  of  for- 
eign affairs  than  Lord  John  Russell ; he  was 
probably  not  so  consistently  and  on  principle 
a supporter  of  free  and  popular  institutions. 
But  Lord  Palmerston’s  energetic,  heedless 
temperament,  his  „exuberant  animal  spirits, 
and  his  profound  confidence  in  himself  and 
his  opinions,  made  him  much  more  liberal 
and  spontaneous  in  his  expressions  of  sympa- 
thy than  a man  of  Russell’s  colder  nature 
could  well  have  been.  Palmerston  seized  a 
conclusion  at  once,  and  hardly  ever  departed 
from  it.  He  never  seemed  to  care  who  knew 
what  he  thought  on  any  subject.  He  had 
a contempt  for  men  of  more  deliberate 
temper,  and  often  spoke  and  wrote  as  if  he 
thought  a man  slow  in  forming  an  opinion 
must  needs  be  a dull  man,  not  to  say  a fool. 
All  opinions  not  his  own  be  held  in  good- 
humored  scorn.  In  some  of  his  letters  we 
find  him  writing  of  men  of  the  most  un- 
doubted genius  and  wisdom,  whose  views 
have  since  stood  all  the  test  of  time  and  trial, 
as  if  they  were  mere  blockheads  for  whom 
no  practical  man  could  feel  the  slightest  re- 
spect. It  would  be  almost  superfluous  to 
say,  in  describing  a man  of  such  a nature, 
that  Lord  Palmerston  sometimes  fancied  he 
saw  great  wisdom  and  force  of  character  in 
men  for  whom  neither  then  nor  since  did  the 
world  in  general  show  much  regard.  As 
with  a man,  so  with  a cause.  Lord  Palmer- 
ston was  to  all  appearance  capricious  in  his 
sympathies.  Calmer  and  more  earnest  minds 
were  sometimes  offended  at  what  seemed  a 
lack  of  deep-seated  principle  in  his  mind  and 
his  policy,  even  when  it  happened  that  he 
and  they  were  in  accord  as  to  the  course  that 
ought  to  be  pursued.  His  levity  often 
shocked  them  ; his  blunt,  brusque  ways  of 
speaking  and  writing  sometimes  gave  down- 
right offence. 

In  his  later  years  Lord  Palmerston’s  man- 
ner in  Parliament  and  out  of  it  had  greatly 
mellowed  and  softened  and  grown  more  gen- 
ial He  retained  all  the  good  spirits  and  the 
ready,  easy,  marvellously  telling  humor  : 
but  he  had  grown  more  considerate  of  the 
feelings  of  opponents  in  debate,  and  he  al- 
lowed his  genuine  kindness  of  heart  a freer 
influence  upon  his  mode  of  speech.  He  had 
grown  to  prefer  on  the  whole  his  friend  or 
even  his  honorable  opponent  to  his  joke. 


They  who  only  remember  Palmerston  in  his 
very  later  years  in  the  House  of  Commons, and 
who  can  only  recall  to  memory  that  bright 
racy  humor  which  never  offended,  will  per- 
haps find  it  hard  to  understand  how  many  ene- 
mies he  made  for  himself  at  an  earlier  period  by 
the  levity  and  flippancy  of  his  manner.  Many 
grave  statesmen  thought  that  the  levity  and 
flippancy  were  far  less  dangerous  even  when 
employed  in  irritating  his  adversaries  in  the 
House  of  Commons  than  when  exercised  in 
badgering  foreign  ministers  and  their  govern- 
ments and  sovereigns.  Lord  Palmerston  was 
unsparing  in  his  lectures  to  foreign  States. 
He  was  always  admonishing  them  that  they 
ought  to  lose  no  time  in  at  once  adopting  the 
principles  of  government  which  prevailed  in 
England.  He  not  uncommonly  put  his  ad- 
monitions in  the  tone  of  one  who  meant  to 
say  : “ If  you  don’t  take  my  advice  you  will 
be  ruined,  and  your  ruin  will  serve  you  right 
for  being  such  fools.”  While,  therefore,  he 
was  a Conservative  in  home  politics,  and 
never  even  professed  the  slightest  personal 
interest  in  any  projects  of  political  reform  in 
England,  he  got  the  credit  all  over  the  Conti- 
nent of  being  a supporter,  promoter,  and  pat- 
ron of  all  manner  of  revolutionary  move- 
ments, and  a disturber  of  the  relations  be- 
tween subjects  and  their  sovereigns. 

Lord  Palmerston  was  not  inconsistent  in 
thus  being  a Conservative  at  home  and  some- 
thing like  a revolutionary  abroad.  He  was 
quite  satisfied  with  the  state  of  things  in  Eng- 
land. He  was  convinced  that  when  a people 
had  got  a well-limited  suffrage  and  a respect- 
able House  of  Commons  elected  by  open 
vote,  a House  of  Lords,  and  a constitutional 
Sovereign,  they  had  got  all  that  in  a political 
sense  man  has  to  hope  for.  He  was  not  a 
far-seeing  man,  nor  a man  who  much  troub- 
led himself  about  what  a certain  class  of  writ 
ers  and  thinkers  are  fond  of  calling  “ prob- 
lems of  life.”  It  did  not  occur  to  him  to 
think  that  as  a matter  of  absolute  necessity 
the  very  reforms  we  enjoy  in  one  day  are 
only  putting  us  into  a mental  condition  to  as- 
pire after  and  see  the  occasion  for  further  re- 
forms as  the  days  go  on.  But  he  clearly  saw 
that  most  Continental  countries  were  govern- 
ed on  a system  which  was  not  only  worn  out 
and  decaying,  but  which  was  the  source  of 
great  practical  and  personal  evils  to  their  in- 
habitants. He  desired  therefore  for  every 
country  a political  system  like  that  of  Great 
Britain,  and  neither  for  Great  Britain  nor  for 
any  other  country  did  he  desire  anything 
more.  He  was,  accordingly,  looked  upon  by 
Continental  ministers  as  a patron  of  revolu- 
tion, and  by  English  Radicals  as  the  steady 
enemy  of  political  reform.  Both  were  right 
from  their  own  point  of  view.  The  familiar 
saying  among  Continental  Conservatives  was 
expressed  in  the  well-known  German  lines, 
which  affirm  that  “ If  the  devil  had  a son, 
he  must  be  surely  Palmerston.”  On  the 
other  hand,  the  English  Radical  party  re- 
garded him  as  the  most  formidable  enemy 
they  had.  Mr.  Cobden  deliberately  declared 
him  to  be  the  worst  minister  that  had  ever 
governed  England.  At  a later  period,  when 
Lord  Palmerston  invited  Cobden  to  take 
office  under  him,  Cobden  referred  to  what  he 
had  said  of  Palmerston,  and  gave  this  as  a 
reason  to  show  the  impossibility  of  his  serv- 
ing such  a chief.  The  good-natured  states- 
man only  smiled,  and  observed  that  another 
public  man  who  had  just  joined  his  Adminis- 
tration had  often  said  things  as  hard  of  him 
in  other  days.  “Yes,”  answered  Cobden, 
quietly,  “ but  I meant  what  I said.” 

Palmerston,  therefore,  had  many  enemies 
among  European  statesmen  It  is  now  cer- 
tain that  the  Queen  frequently  winced  under 
the  expressions  of  ill-feeling  which  were 
brought  to  her  ears  as  affecting  England, 
and,  as  she  supposed,  herself,  and  which  she 
believed  to  have  been  drawn  on  her  by  the 
inconsiderate  and  impulsive  conduct  of  Pal- 
merston. The  Prince  Consort,  on  whose  ad- 
vice the  Queen  very  naturally  relied,  was 


a man  of  singularly  calm  and  earnest  na- 
ture. He  liked  to  form  his  opinions  deliber- 
ately and  slowly,  and  disliked  expressing  any 
opinion  until  his  mind  was  well  made  up. 
Lord  Palmerston,  when  Secretary  for  For- 
eign Affairs,  was  much  in  the  habit  of  writ- 
ing and  answering  despatches  on  the  spur  of 
the  moment,  and  without  consulting  either 
the  Queen  or  his  colleagues.  Palmerston 
complained  of  the  long  delays  which  took 
place  on  several  occasions  when,  in  matters 
of  urgent  importance,  he  waited  to  submit 
despatches  to  the  Queen  before  sending  them 
off.  He  was  of  opinion  that  during  the 
memorable  controversy  on  the  Spanish  mar- 
riages the  interests  of  England  were  once  in 
danger  of  being  compromised  by  the  delay 
thus  forced  upon  him.  He  contended  too 
that  where  the  general  policy  of  a state  was 
clearly  marked  out  and  well  known,  it  would 
have  been  idle  to  insist  that  a Foreign  Secre- 
tary capable  of  performing  the  duties  of  his 
office  should  wait  to  submit  for  the  inspection 
and  approval  of  the  Sovereign  and  liis  col- 
leagues every  scrap  of  paper  he  wrote  on  be- 
fore it  was  allowed  to  leave  England.  If  such 
precautions  were  needful.  Lord  Palmerston 
contended,  it  could  only  be  because  the  per- 
son holding  the  office  of  Foreign  Secretary 
was  unfit  for  his  post ; and  he  ought,  there- 
fore, to  be  dismissed,  and  some  better  quali- 
fied man  put  in  his  place.  Of  course  there  is 
some  obvious  justice  in  this  view  of  the  case. 
It  would  perhaps  have  been  unreasonable  to 
expect  that,  at  a time  when  the  business  of 
the  Foreign  Office  had  suddenly  swelled  to 
unprecedented  magnitude,  the  same  rules  and 
formalities  could  be  kept  up  which  had  suit- 
ed slower  and  less  busy  days.  But  the  com- 
plaint made  by  the  Queen  was  not  that  Pal- 
merston failed  to  consult  her  on  every  detail, 
and  to  submit  every  line  relating  to  the  or- 
ganization of  the  Foreign  Office  for  her  ap- 
proval before  he  sent  it  off.  The  complaint 
was  clear,  and  full  of  matter  for  very  grave 
consideration.  The  Queen  complained  that 
on  matters  concerning  the  actual  policy  of 
the  State  Palmerston  was  in  the  habit  of  act- 
ing on  his  own  independent  judgment  and 
authority  ; that  she  found  herself  more  than 
once  thus  pledged  to  a course  of  policy  which 
she  had  not  had  an  opportunity  of  consider- 
ing, and  would  not  have  approved  if  she  had 
had  such  an  opportunity  ; and  that  she  hard- 
ly ever  found  any  question  absolutely  intact 
and  uncompromised,  when  it  was  submitted 
to  her  judgment.  The  complaint  was  justi- 
fied in  many  cases.  Lord  Palmerston  fre- 
quently acted  in  a manner  which  almost 
made  it  seem  as  if  he  were  purposely  ignor- 
ing the  authority  of  the  Sovereign.  In  part 
this  came  from  the  natural  impatience  of  a 
quick  man  confident  in  his  own  knowledge 
of  a subject,  and  chafing  at  any  delay  which 
he  thought  unnecessary  and  merely  formal. 
But  it  is  not  easy  to  avoid  a suspicion  that 
Lord  Palmerston’s  rapidity  of  action  some- 
times had  a different  explanation.  Two 
impressions  seem  to  have  had  a place  deeply 
down  in  the  mind  of  the  Foreign  Secretary. 
He  appears  to  have  felt  sure  that,  roughly 
speaking,  the  sympathies  of  the  English  peo- 
ple were  with  the  Continental  movements 
against  the  sovereigns,  and  that  the  sympa- 
thies of  the  English  Court  were  with  the  sov- 
ereigns against  the  popular  movements.  In 
the  first  belief  he  was  undoubtedly  right. 
In  the  second  he  was  probably  right.  It  is 
not  likely  that  a man  of  Prince  Albert’s  pe- 
culiar turn  of  mind  could  have  admitted 
much  sympathy  with  revolution  against  con- 
stituted authority  of  any  kind.  Even  his 
Liberalism,  undoubtedly  a deep  and  genuine 
conviction,  did  not  lead  him  to  make  much 
allowance  for  any  disturbing  impulses.  His 
orderly  intellectual  nature,  with  little  of  fire 
or  passion  in  it,  was  prone  to  estimate  every- 
thing by  the  matter  in  which  it  stood  the 
test  of  logical  argument.  He  could  under- 
stand arguing  against  a bad  system  better 
than  he  could  understand  taking  the  risk  of 


76 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


making  things  worse  by  resisting  it.  Some 
of  the  published  memoranda  or  other  writ- 
ings of  Prince  Albert  are  full  of  a curious  in- 
terest as  showing  the  way  in  which  a calm, 
intellectual,  and  earnest  man  could  approach 
some  of  the  burning  questions  of  the  day  with 
the  belief  apparently  that  the  great  antagon- 
isms of  systems  and  of  opposing  national  for- 
ces could  be  argued  into  moderation  and  per- 
suaded into  compromise.  In  Prince  Albert 
there  were  two  tendencies  counteracting  each 
other.  His  natural  sympathies  were  mani- 
festly with  the  authority  of  thrones.  His  ed 
ucation  taught  him  that  thrones  can  only  ex- 
ist by  virtue  of  their  occupants  recognizing 
the  fact  that  they  do  not  exist  of  their  own 
authority,  and  taking  care  that  they  do  not 
become  unsuited  to  the  time.  The  influence 
of  Prince  Albert  would  therefore  be  some- 
thing very  different  from  the  impulses  and 
desires  of  Lord  Palmerston.  It  is  hardly  to 
be  doubted  that  Palmerston  sometimes  acted 
upon  this  conviction.  He  thought  he  un- 
derstood better  than  others  not  only  the  ten- 
dencies of  events  in  foreign  politics,  but  also 
the  tendencies  of  English  public  opinion  with 
regard  to  them.  He  well  knew  that  so  long 
as  he  had  public  opinion  with  him,  no  influ- 
ence could  long  prevail  against  him.  His 
knowledge  of  English  public  opinion  was 
something  like  an  instinct.  It  could  always 
be  trusted.  It  had,  indeed,  no  far  reach. 
Lord  Palmerston  never  could  be  relied  upon 
for  a judgment  as  to  the  possible  changes  of 
a generation  or  even  a few  years.  But  he 
was  an  almost  infallible  guide  as  to  what  a 
majority  of  the  English  people  were  likely  to 
say  if  asked  at  the  particular  moment  when 
any  question  was  under  dispute.  Palmer- 
ston never  really  guided,  but  always  follow- 
ed, the  English  public,  even  in  foreign 
affairs.  He  was,  it  seems  almost  needless  to 
say,  an  incomparably  better  judge  of  the  di- 
rection English  sentiment  was  likely  to  take 
than  the  most  acute  foreigner  put  in  such  a 
place  as  Prince  Albert’s  could  possibly  hope 
to  be.  It  may  be  assumed  then  that  some  at 
least  of  Lord  Palmerston’s  actions  were  dic- 
tated by  the  conviction  that  he  had  the  gene- 
ral force  of  that  sentiment  to  sustain  him  in 
case  his  mode  of  conducting  the  business  of 
the  Foreign  Office  should  ever  be  called  into 
account. 

A time  came  when  it  was  called  into  ac- 
count. The  Queen  and  the  Prince  had  long 
chafed  under  Lord  Palmerston’s  cavalier 
way  of  doing  business.  So  far  back  as  1849 
her  Majesty  had  felt  obliged  to  draw  the  at- 
tention of  the  Foreign  Secretary  to  the  fact 
that  his  office  was  constitutionally  under  the 
control  of  the  Prime  Minister,  and  that  the 
despatches  to  be  submitted  for  her  approval 
should,  therefore,  pass  through  the  hands  of 
Lord  John  Russell.  Lord  John  Russell  ap- 
proved of  this  arrangement,  only  suggesting 
— and  the  suggestion  is  of  some  moment  in 
considering  the  defence  of  his  conduct  after- 
wards made  by  Lord  Palmerston — that  every 
facility  should  be  given  for  the  transaction  of 
business  by  the  Queen’s  attending  to  the  draft 
despatches  as  soon  as  possible  after  their  ar- 
rival. The  Queen  accepted  the  suggestion 
good-humoredly,  only  pleading  that  she 
should  “ not  be  pressed  for  an  answer  within 
a few  minutes,  as  is  done  now  sometimes.  ’ ’ 
One  can  see  tolerably  well  what  a part  of  the 
difficulty  was  even  from  these  slight  hints. 
Lord  Palmerston  was  rapid  in  forming  his 
judgments,  as  in  all  his  proceedings,  and 
when  once  he  had  made  up  his  mind  was  im- 
patient of  any  delay  which  seemed  to  him 
superfluous.  Prince  Albert  was  slow,  delib- 
erate, reflective,  and  methodical.  Lord  Pal- 
merston was  always  sure  he  was  right  in 
every  judgment  he  formed,  even  if  it  were 
adopted  on  the  spur  of  the  moment ; Prince 
Albert  loved  reconsideration,  and  was  open 
to  new  argument  and  late  conviction.  How- 
ever, the  difficulty  was  got  over  in  1849. 
Lord  Palmerston  agreed  to  every  suggestion, 
and  for  the  time  all  seemed  likely  to  go 


smoothly.  It  was  only  for  the  time.  The 
Queen  soon  believed  she  had  reason  to  com- 
plain that  the  new  arrangement  was  not  car- 
ried out.  Things  were  going  on,  she 
thought,  in  just  the  old  way.  Lord  Palmer- 
ston dealt  as  before  with  foreign  courts  ac- 
cording to  what  seemed  best  to  him  at  the 
moment ; and  his  Sovereign  and  his  colleagues 
often  only  knew  of  some  important  despatch 
or  instruction  when  the  thing  was  done  and 
could  not  be  conveniently  or  becomingly  un- 
done. The  Prince,  at  her  Majesty’s  request, 
wrote  to  Lord  John  Russeil,  complaining 
strongly  of  the  conduct  of  Lord  Palmerston. 
The  letter  declared  that  Lord  Palmerston  had 
failed  in  his  duty  towards  her,  “ and  not 
from  oversight  or  negligence,  but  upon  prin- 
ciple, and  with  astonishing  pertinacity, 
against  every  effort  of  the  Queen.  Besides 
which.  Lord  Palmerston  does  not  scruple  to 
let  it  appear  in  public  as  if  the  Sovereign’s 
negligence  in  attending  to  the  papers  sent  to 
her  caused  delay  and  annoyance.  ” Even  be- 
fore this  it  seems  that  the  Queen  had  drawn 
up  a memorandum  to  lay  down  in  clear  and 
severe  language  the  exact  rules  by  which  the 
Foreign  Secretary  must  be  bound  in  his 
dealings  with  her.  The  memorandum  was 
not  used  at  that  time,  as  it  was  thought  that 
the  remonstrances  of  the  Sovereign  and  the 
Prime  Minister  alike  could  hardly  fail  to 
have  some  effect  on  the  Foreign  Secretary. 
This  time,  however,  the  Queen  appears  to 
have  felt  that  she  could  no  longer  refrain  ; 
and  accordingly  the  following  important 
memorandum  was  addressed  by  her  Majesty 
to  the  Prime  Minister.  It  is  well  worth 
quoting  in  full,  partly  because  it  became  a 
subject  of  much  interest  and  controversy 
afterwards,  and  partly  because  of  the  tone  of 
peculiar  sternness,  rare  indeed  from  a sover- 
eign to  a minister  in  our  times,  in  which  its 
instructions  are  conveyed. 

Osborne,  August  12,  1850. 

With  reference  to  the  conversation  about  Lord 
Palmerston  which  the  Queen  had  with  Lord  John 
Russell  the  other  day,  and  Lord  Palmerston’s  disa- 
vowal that  he  ever  intended  any  disrespect  to  her  by 
the  various  neglects  of  which  she  has  had  so  long  and 
so  often  to  complain,  she  thinks  it  right,  in  order  to 
prevent  any  mistake  for  the  future,  to  explain  what  it 
is  she  expects  from  the  Foreign  Secretary. 

She  requires : 

First.  That  he  will  distinctly  state  what  he  proposes 
to  do  in  a given  case,  in  order  that  the  Queen  may 
know  as  distinctly  to  what  she  has  given  her  royal 
sanction. 

Second.  Having  once  given  her  sanction  to  a meas- 
ure, that  it  be  not  arbitrarily  altered  or  modified  by 
the  Minister  ; such  an  act  she  mufet  consider  as  failure 
in  sincerity  towards  the  Crown,  and  justly  to  be  visited 
by  the  exercise  of  her  constitutional  right  of  dismiss- 
ing that  Minister.  She  expects  to  be  kept  informed  of 
what  passes  between  him  and  the  foreign  ministers, 
before  important  decisions  are  taken  based  upon  that 
intercourse  ; to  receive  the  foreign  despatches  in  good 
time,  and  to  have  the  drafts  for  her  approval  sent  to 
her  in  sufficient  time  to  make  herself  acquainted  with 
their  contents  before  they  must  be  sent  off.  The 
Queen  thinks  it  best  that  Lord  John  Russell  should 
show  tills  letter  to  Lord  Palmerston . 

The  tone  of  the  memorandum  was  severe, 
but  there  was  nothing  unreasonable  in  its 
stipulations.  On  the  contrary,  it  simply  pre- 
scribed what  every  one  might  have  supposed 
to  be  the  elementary  conditions  on  which  the 
duties  of  a sovereign  and  a foreign  minister 
can  alone  be  satisfactorily  canned  on.  Custom 
as  well  as  obvious  convenience  demanded 
such  conditions.  The  Duke  of  Wellington 
declared  that  when  he  was  Prime  Minister  no 
despatch  left  the  Foreign  Office  without  his 
seeing  it.  No  sovereign,  one  would  think, 
could  consent  to  the  responsibility  of  rule  on 
any  other  terms.  We  have  perhaps  got  into 
the  habit  of  thinking,  or  at  least  of  saying, 
that  the  sovereign  of  a constitutional  country 
only  rules  through  the  ministers.  But  it 
would  be  a great  mistake  to  suppose  that  the 
sovereign  has  no  constitutional  functions 
whatever  provided  by  our  system  of  govern- 
ment, and  that  the  sole  duty  of  a monarch  is 
to  make  a figure  in  certain  state  pageantry. 
It  has  sometimes  been  said  that  the  sover- 
eign in  a country  like  England  is  only  the 
signet  ring  of  the  nation.  If  this  were  true, 


I it  might  be  asked  with  unanswerable  force 
why  a veritable  signet  ring  costing  a few 
pounds,  and  never  requiring  to  be  renewed, 
j would  not  serve  all  purposes  quite  as  well 
and  save  expense.  But  the  position  of  the 
sovereign  is  not  one  of  meaningless  inactiv- 
ity. The  sovereign  has  a verjr  distinct  and 
practical  office  to  fulfil  in  a constitutional 
country.  The  monarch  in  England  is  the 
chief  magistrate  of  the  State,  specially  raised 
above  party  and  passion  and  change  in  order 
to  be  able  to  look  with  a clearer  eye  to  all 
that  concerns  the  interests  of  the  nation.  Our 
constitutional  system  grows  and  develops  it- 
self year  after  year  as  our  requirements  and 
conditions  change  ; and  the  position  of  the 
sovereign,  like  everything  else,  has  undergone 
some  modification.  It  is  settled  now  beyond 
dispute  that  the  sovereign  is  not  to  dismiss 
ministers  or  a minister  simply  from  personal 
inclination  or  conviction,  as  until  a very  re- 
cent day  it  was  the  right  and  the  habit  of 
English  monarchs  to  do.  The  sovereign  now 
retains,  in  virtue  of  usage  having  almost  the 
force  of  constitutional  law,  the  ministers  of 
whom  the  House  of  Commons  approves. 
But  the  Crown  still  has  the  right,  in  case  of 
extreme  need,  of  dismissing  any  minister 
who  actually  fails  to  do  his  duty.  The  sov- 
ereign is  always  supposed  to  understand  the 
business  of  the  State,  to  consider  its  affairs, 
and  to  offer  an  opinion  and  enforce  it  by  ar- 
gument on  any  question  submitted  by  the 
ministers.  When  the  ministers  find  that 
they  cannot  allow  their  judgment  to  bend  to 
that  of  the  sovereign,  then  indeed  the  sover- 
eign gives  way  or  the  ministers  resign.  In 
all  ordinary  cases  the  sovereign  gives  way. 
But  it  was  never  intended  by  the  English 
Constitution  that  the  ministers  and  the  coun- 
try were  not  to  have  the  benefit  of  the  advice 
and  the  judgment  of  a magistrate  who  is 
purposely  placed  above  all  the  excitements 
and  temptations  of  party,  its  triumphs  and 
its  reverses,  and  who  is  assumed  therefore  to 
have  no  other  motive  than  the  good  of  the 
State  in  offering  an  advice.  The  sovereign 
would  grossly  fail  in  public  duty,  and  would 
be  practically  disappointing  the  confidence  of 
the  nation,  who  consented  to  act  simply  as 
the  puppet  of  the  minister,  and  to  sign 
mechanically  and  without  question  every 
document  he  laid  on  the  table. 

In  the  principles  which  she  laid  down  there- 
fore the  Queen  was  strictly  right.  But  the 
memorandum  was  none  the  less  a severe  and  a 
galling  rebuke  for  the  Foreign  Secretary. 
We  can  imagine  with  what  emotions  Lord 
Palmerston  must  have  received  it.  He  was 
a proud,  self-confident  man  ; and  it  came  on 
him  just  in  the  moment  of  his  greatest  tri- 
umph. Never  before,  never  since,  did  Lord 
Palmerston  win  so  signal  and  so  splendid  a 
victory  as  that  which  he  had  extorted  by  the 
sheer  force  of  his  eloquence  and  his  genius 
from  a reluctant  House  of  Commons  in  the 
Don  Pacifico  debate.  Never  probably  in 
our  Parliamentary  history  did  a man  of  years 
so  advanced  accomplish  such  a feat  of  elo- 
quence, argument,  and  persuasion  as  he  had 
achieved.  He  stood  up  before  the  world  the 
foremost  English  statesman  of  the  day.  It 
is  easy  to  imagine  how  deeply  he  must  have 
felt  the  rebuke  conveyed  in  the  memoran- 
dum of  the  Queen.  W e know  as  a matter  of 
fact,  from  what  he  himself  afterwards  said, 
that  he  did  feel  it  bitterly.  But  he  kept 
down  his  feelings.  Whether  he  was  right  or 
wrong  in  the  matter  of  dispute,  he  undoubt- 
edly showed  admirable  self-control  and  good- 
temper  in  his  manner  of  receiving  the  repri- 
mand. He  wrote  a friendly  and  good-hu- 
mored letter  to  Lord  John  Russell,  saying, 

‘ ‘ I have  taken  a copy  of  this  memorandum 
of  the  Queen,  and  will  not  fail  to  attend  to 
the  directions  which  it  contains.”  The  let- 
ter then  gave  a few  lines  of  explanation 
about  the  manner  in  which  delays  had  arisen 
in  the  sending  of  despatches  to  the  Queen, 
but  promising  to  return  to  the  old  practice, 
and  expressing  a hope  that  if  the  return  re- 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


77 


quired  an  additional  clerk  or  two,  the  Treas- 
ury would  be  liberal  in  allowing  him  that  as- 
sistance. Nothing  could  be  more  easy  and 
pleasant.  It  might  have  seemed  the  ease  of 
absolute  carelessness.  But  it  was  nothing  of 
the  kind.  Lord  Palmerston  had  acted  delib- 
erately and  with  a purpose.  He  afterwards 
explained  why  he  had  not  answered  the  re- 
buke by  resigning  his  office.  “ The  paper,” 
he  said,  “ was  written  in  anger  by  a lady  as 
well  as  by  a sovereign,  and  the  difference  be- 
tween a lady  and  a man  could  not  be  forgot- 
ten even  in  the  case  of  the  occupant  of  the 
throne.”  He  had  “no  reason  to  suppose 
that  this  memorandum  would  ever  be  seen 
by  or  be  known  to  anybody  but  the  Queen, 
John  Russell,  and  myself.  ’ ’ Again,  ‘ ‘ I had 
lately  been  the  object  of  violent  political  at- 
tack, and  had  gained  a great  and  signal  vic- 
tory in  the  House  of  Commons  and  in  public 
opinion  ; to  have  resigned  then  would  have 
been  to  have  given  the  fruits  of  victory  to 
antagonists  whom  I had  defeated,  and  to 
have  abandoned  my  political  supporters  at 
the  very  moment  when  by  their  means  I had 
triumphed.”  But  beyond  all  that,  Lord 
Palmerston  said  that  by  suddenly  resigning 
“ I should  have  been  bringing  for  decision  at 
the  bar  of  public  opinion  a personal  quarrel 
between  myself  and  my  Sovereign — a step 
which  no  subject  ought  to  take  if  he  can  pos- 
sibly avoid  it ; for  the  result  of  such  a course 
must  be  either  fatal  to  him  or  injurious  to 
the  country.  If  he  should  prove  to  be  in  the 
wrong,  he  would  be  irretrievably  condemn- 
ed ; if  the  Sovereign  should  be  proved  to  be 
in  the  wrong,  the  monarchy  would  suffer.” 

It  is  impossible  not  to  feel  a high  respect 
for  the  manner  in  which,  having  come  to 
this  determination,  Lord  Palmerston  at  once 
acted  upon  it.  As  he  had  resolved  not  to  re- 
sent the  rebuke,  he  would  not  allow  any 
gleam  of  feeling  to  creep  into  his  letter 
which  could  show  that  he  felt  any  resent- 
ment. Few  men  could  have  avoided  the 
temptation  to  throw  into  a reply  on  such  an 
occasion  something  of  the  tone  of  the  in- 
jured, the  unappreciated,  the  martyr,  the 
wronged  one  who  endures  much  and  will  not 
complain.  Lord  Palmerston  felt  instinctive- 
ly the  bad  taste  and  unwisdom  of  such  a 
style  of  reply.  He  took  his  rebuke  in  the 
most  perfect  good  humor.  His  letter  must 
have  surprised  Lord  John  Russell.  Macau- 
lay observes  that  Warren  Hastings,  confi- 
dent that  he  knew  best  and  was  acting  right- 
ly, endured  the  rebukes  of  the  East  India 
Company  with  a patience  which  was  some- 
times mistaken  for  the  patience  of  stupidity. 
It  is  not  unlikely  that  when  the  Prime  Min- 
ister received  Lord  Palmerston’s  reply  he 
may  have  mistaken  its  patience  for  the  pa- 
tience of  downright  levity  and  indifference. 

Lord  Palmerston  went  a step  farther  in  the 
way  of  conciliation.  He  asked  for  an  inter- 
view with  Prince  Albert,  and  he  explained  to 
the  Prince  in  the  most  emphatic  and  indig- 
nant terms  that  the  accusation  against  him 
of  being  purposely  wanting  in  respect  to  the 
Sovereign  was  absolutely  unfounded. 

‘ ‘ Had  it  been  deserved,  he  ought  to  be  no 
longer  tolerated  in  society.”  But  he  does 
not  seem  in  the  course  of  the  interview  to 
have  done  much  more  than  argue  the  point 
as  to  the  propriety  and  convenience  of  the 
system  he  had  lately  been  adopting  in  the 
business  of  the  Foreign  Office. 

So  for  the  hour  the  matter  dropped.  Other 
events  interfered  ; there  were  many  impor- 
tant questions  of  domestic  policy  to  be  attend- 
ed to  ; and  for  some  time  Lord  Palmerston’s 
policy  and  his  way  of  conducting  the  busi- 
ness of  the  Foreign  Office  did  not  invite  any 
particular  attention.  But  the  old  question 
was  destined  to  come  up  again  in  more  seri- 
ous form  than  before. 

The  failure  of  the  Hungarian  rebellion, 
through  the  intervention  of  Russia,  called 
up  a wide  and  deep  feeling  of  regret  and  in- 
dignation in  this  country.  The  English  peo- 
ple had  very  generally  sympathized  with  the 


cause  of  the  Hungarians  and  rejoiced  in  the 
victories  which  up  to  a certain  point  the 
arms  of  the  insurgents  had  won.  When  the 
Hungarians  were  put  down  at  last,  not  by 
the  strength  of  Austria  but  by  the  interven- 
tion of  Russia,  the  anger  of  Englishmen  in 
general  found  loud-spoken  expression. 
Louis  Kossuth,  who  had  been  Dictator  of 
Hungary  during  the  greater  part  of  the  insur- 
rection, and  who  represented,  in  the  English 
mind  at  least,  the  cause  of  Hungary  and  her 
national  independence,  came  to  England. 
He  was  about  to  take  up  his  residence,  as  he 
then  intended,  in  the  United  States,  and  on 
his  way  thither  he  visited  England.  He  had 
applied  for  permission  to  pass  through 
French  territory,  and  had  been  refused  the 
favor.  The  refusal  only  gave  one  additional 
reason  to  the  English  public  for  welcoming 
him  with  especial  cordiality.  He  was  ac- 
cordingly received  at  Southampton,  in  Bir- 
mingham, in  London,  with  an  enthusiasm 
such  as  no  foreigner  except  Garibaldi  alone 
has  ever  drawn  in  our  time  from  the  English 
people.  There  was  much  in  Kossuth  him- 
self as  well  as  in  his  cause  to  attract  the  en- 
thusiasm of  popular  assemblages.  He  had  a 
strikingly  handsome  face  and  a stately  pres- 
ence. He  was  picturesque  and  perhaps 
even  theatric  in  his  dress  and  his  bearing. 
He  looked  like  a picture  ; all  his  attitudes 
and  gestures  seemed  as  if  they  were  meant  to 
be  reproduced  by  a painter.  He  was  un- 
doubtedly one  of  the  most  eloquent  men  who 
ever  addressed  an  English  popular  audience. 
In  one  of  his  imprisonments  Kossuth  had 
studied  the  English  language  chiefly  from 
the  pages  of  Shakespeare.  He  had  mastered 
our  tongue  as  few  foreigners  have  ever  been 
able  to  do  ; but  what  he  had  mastered  was  not 
the  common  colloquial  English  of  the  streets 
and  the  drawing-rooms.  The  English  he 
spoke  was  the  noblest  in  its  style  from  which 
a student  could  supply  his  eloquence  : Kos- 
suth spoke  the  English  of  Shakespeare.  He 
could  address  a public  meeting  for  an  hour 
or  more  with  a fluency  not  inferior  seemingly 
to  that  of  Gladstone,  with  a measured  dig- 
nity and  well-restrained  force  that  were  not 
unworthy  of  Bright  ; and  in  curiously  ex- 
pressive, stately,  powerful,  pathetic  English 
which  sounded  as  if  it  belonged  to  a higher 
time  and  to  loftier  interests  than  ours. 
Viewed  as  a mere  performance  the  achieve- 
ment of  Kossuth  was  unique.  It  may  well 
be  imagined  what  the  effect  was  on  a popular 
audience  when  such  eloquence  was  poured 
forth  in  glowing  eulogy  of  a cause  with 
which  they  sympathized,  and  in  denuncia- 
tion of  enemies  and  principles  they  detested. 
It  was  impossible  not  to  be  impressed  by  the 
force  of  some  of  the  striking  and  dramatic 
passages  in  Kossuth’s  fervid,  half-oriental  ora- 
tions. He  stretched  out  his  right  hand  and 
declared  that  “ the  time  was  when  I held  the 
destinies  of  the  House  of  Hapsburg  in  the 
hollow  of  that  hand  !”  He  apostrophized 
those  who  fought  and  fell  in  the  rank  and 
file  of  Hungary’s  champions  as  “unnamed 
demi  gods.”  He  prefaced  a denunciation  of 
the  Papal  policy  % an  impassioned  lament 
over  the  brief  hopes  that  the  Pope  was  about 
to  head  the  Liberal  movement  in  Italy,  and 
reminded  his  hearers  that  “ there  was  a time 
when  the  name  of  Pio  Nono,  coupled  with 
that  of  Louis  Kossuth,  was  thundered  in  vivas 
along  the  sunny  shores  of  the  Adriatic.” 
Every  appeal  was  vivid  and  dramatic  ; every 
allusion  told.  Throughout  the  whole  there 
ran  the  thread  of  one  distinct  principle  of  in- 
ternational policy  to  which  Kossuth  endeav- 
ored to  obtain  the  assent  of  the  English 
people.  This  was  the  principle  that  if  one 
State  intervenes  in  the  domestic  affairs  of  an- 
other for  the  purpose  of  putting  down  revo- 
lution, it  then  becomes  the  right,  and  may 
even  be  the  duty,  of  any  third  State  to  throw 
in  the  weight  of  her  sword  against  the  un- 
justifiable intervention.  A3  a principle  this 
is  nothing  more  than  some  of  the  ablest  and 
most  thoughtful  Englishmen  had  advocated 


before  and  have  advocated  since.  But  in 
Kossuth’s  mind  and  in  the  understanding  of 
those  wdio  heard  him,  it  meant  that  England 
ought  to  declare  war  against  Russia  or  Aus- 
tria, or  both  ; the  former  for  having  inter- 
vened between  the  Emperor  of  Austria  and 
the  Hungarians,  and  the  latter  for  having  in- 
vited and  profited  by  the  intervention. 

The  presence  of  Kossuth  and  the  reception 
he  got  excited  a wild  anger  and  alarm  among 
Austrian  statesmen.  The  Austrian  Minister 
was  all  sensitiveness  and  remonstrance.  The 
relations  between  this  country  and  Austria 
seemed  to  become  every  day  more  and  more 
strained.  Lord  Palmerston  regarded  the  an- 
ger and  the  fears  of  Austria  with  a contempt 
which  he  took  no  pains  to  conceal.  Before 
the  Hungarian  exile  had  reached  this  coun- 
try, while  he  was  still  under  the  protection 
of  the  Sultan  of  Turkey,  and  Austria  was  in 
wild  alarm  lest  he  should  be  set  at  liberty  and 
should  come  to  England,  Lord  Palmerston 
wrote  to  a British  diplomatist  saying,  “ What 
a childish,  silly  fear  this  is  of  Kossuth  ! 
What  great  harm  could  he  do  to  Austria 
while  in  France  or  England  ? He  would  be 
the  hero  of  half  a dozen  dinners  in  England, 
at  which  would  be  made  speeches  not  more 
violent  than  those  which  have  been  made  on 
platforms  here  within  the  last  four  months, 
and  he  would  soon  sink  into  comparative  ob- 
scurity ; while  on  the  other  hand,  so  long  as 
he  is  a State  detenu  in  Turkey  he  is  a martyr 
and  the  object  of  never-ceasing  interest.” 
Lord  Palmerston  understood  thoroughly  the 
temper  of  his  countrymen  in  general.  The 
English  public  never  had  any  serious  notion 
of  going  to  war  with  Austria  in  obedience  to 
Kossuth’s  appeal.  They  sympathized  gen- 
erally with  Kossuth’s  cause,  or  with  the 
cause  which  they  understood  him  to  repre- 
sent ; they  were  taken  with  his  picturesque 
appearance  and  his  really  wonderful  elo- 
quence ; they  wanted  a new  hero,  and  Kos- 
suth seemed  positively  cut  out  to  supply  the 
want.  The  enthusiasm  cooled  down  after  a 
while,  as  was  indeed  inevitable.  The  time 
was  not  far  off  when  Kossuth  was  to  make 
vain  appeals  to  almost  empty  halls,  and  when 
the  eloquence  that  once  could  cram  the  larg- 
est buildings  with  excited  admirers  was  to 
call  aloud  to  solitude.  There  came  a time 
when  Kossuth  lived  in  Englaud  forgotten 
and  unnoticed  ; when  his  passing  away  from 
England  was  unobserved  as  his  presence 
there  had  long  been.  There  seems,  one  can 
hardly  help  saying,  something  cruel  in  this 
way  of  suddenly  taking  up  the  representative 
of  some  foreign  cause,  the  spokesman  of 
some  “ mission  and  then,  when  he  has 
been  filled  with  vain  hopes,  letting  him  drop 
down  to  disappointment  and  neglect.  It  was 
not  perhaps  the  fault  of  the  English  people  if 
Kossuth  mistook,  as  many  another  man  in 
like  circumstances  has  done,  the  meaning  of 
English  popular  sympathy.  The  English 
crowds  who  applauded  Kossuth  at  first  meant 
nothing  more  than  general  sympathy  with 
any  hero  of  Continental  revolution,  and  per- 
sonal admiration  for  the  eloquence  of  the 
man  who  addressed  them.  But  Kossuth  did 
not  thus  accept  the  homage  paid  to  him.  No 
foreigner  could  have  understood  it  in  his 
place.  Lord  Palmerston  understood  it  thor- 
oughly, and  knew  what  it  meant,  and  how 
long  it  would  last. 

The  time,  however,  had  not  yet  come  when 
the  justice  of  Lord  Palmerston’s  words  was 
to  be  established.  Kossuth  was  the  hero  of 
the  hour,  the  comet  of  the  season.  The  Aus- 
trian statesmen  were  going  on  as  if  every 
word  spoken  at  a Kossuth  meeting  were  a 
declaration  of  war  against  Austria.  Lord 
Palmerston  was  disposed  to  chuckle  over  the 
anger  thus  displayed.  “ Kossuth’s  recep- 
tion,” he  wrote  to  his  brother,  “ must  have 
been  gall  and  wormwood  to  the  Austrians 
and  to  the  absolutists  generally.”  Some  of 
Lord  Palmerston’s  colleagues,  however,  be- 
came greatly  alarmed  when  it  was  reported 
that  the  Foreign  Minister  was  about  to  re- 


78 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


ceive  a visit  from  Kossuth  in  person  to  thank 
him  for  the  sympathy  and  protection  which 
England  had  accorded  to  the  Hungarian  ref- 
ugees while  they  were  still  in  Turkey,  and 
without  which  it  is  only  too  likely  that  they 
would  have  been  handed  over  to  Austria  or 
Russia.  It  was  thought  that  for  the  Foreign 
Secretary  to  receive  a formal  visit  of  thanks 
from  Kossuth  would  be  regarded  by  Austria 
as  a recognition  by  England  of  the  justice  of 
Kossuth’s  cause  and  an  expression  of  censure 
against  Austria.  If  Kossuth  were  received 
by  Lord  Palmerston,  the  Austrian  ambassa- 
dor, it  was  confidently  reported,  would  leave 
England.  Lord  John  Russell  took  alarm, 
and  called  a meeting  of  the  Cabinet  to 
consider  the  momentous  question.  Lord 
Palmerston  reluctantly  consented  to  ap- 
pease the  alarms  of  his  colleagues  by 
promising  to  avoid  an  interview  with  Kos- 
suth. 

It  does  not  seem  to  us  that  there  was  much 
dignity  in  the  course  taken  by  the  Cabinet. 
Lord  Palmerston  actually  used,  and  very  pro- 
perly used,  all  the  influence  England  could 
command  to  protect  the  Hungarian  refugees 
in  Turkey.  He  had  intimated  very  distinct- 
ly, and  with  the  full  approval  of  England, 
that  he  would  use  still  stronger  measures  if 
necessary  to  protect  at  once  the  Sultan  and 
the  refugees.  It  seems  to  us  that,  having 
done  this  openly,  and  compelled  Russia  and 
Austria  to  bend  to  his  urgency,  there  could 
be  little  harm  in  his  receiving  a visit  from  one 
of  the  men  whom  he  had  thus  protected. 
Austria’s  sensibilities  must  have  been  of  a 
peculiar  nature  indeed  if  they  could  bear 
Lord  Palmerston’s  very  distinct  and  ener- 
getic intervention  between  her  and  her  in- 
tended victim,  but  could  not  bear  to  hear  that 
the  rescued  victim  had  paid  Lord  Palmer- 
ston a formal  visit  of  gratitude.  At  all 
events,  it  does  not  seem  as  if  an  English  min- 
ister was  bound  to  go  greatly  out  of  his  way 
to  conciliate  such  very  eccentric  and  morbid 
sensibilities.  We  owe  to  a foreign  state  with 
which  we  are  on  friendly  terms  a strict  and 
honorable  neutrality.  Our  ministers  are 
bound  by  courtesy,  prudence,  and  good  sense 
not  to  obtrude  any  expression  of  their  opin- 
ion touching  the  internal  dissensions  of  a for- 
eign state  on  the  representatives  of  that  state 
or  the  public.  But  they  are  not  by  any 
means  bound  to  treat  the  enemies  of  every 
foreign  state  as  our  enemies.  They  are  not 
expected  to  conciliate  the  friendship  of  Aus- 
tria, for  example,  by  declaring  that  any  one 
who  is  disliked  by  the  Emperor  of  Austria 
shall  never  be  admitted  to  speech  of  them. 
If  Kossuth  had  come  as  the  professed  repre- 
sentative of  an  established  government,  and 
had  sought  an  official  interview  with  Lord 
Palmerston  in  that  capacity,  then  indeed  it 
would  have  been  proper  for  the  English  For- 
eign Secretary  to  refuse  to  receive  him.  Our 
ministers,  with  perfect  propriety,  refused  to 
receive  Mr.  Mason  and  Mr.  Slidell,  the  emis- 
saries of  the  Southern  Confederation,  as  offi- 
cial representatives  of  any  state.  But  it  is 
absurd  to  suppose  that  when  the  civil  war 
was  over  in  America  an  English  statesman  in 
office  would  be  bound  to  decline  receiving  a 
visit  from  Mr.  Jefferson  Davis.  We  know, 
in  fact,  that  the  ex-King  of  Naples,  the  ex- 
King  of  Hanover,  Don  Carlos,  and  the  royal 
representatives  of  various  lost  causes,  are 
constantly  received  by  English  ministers  and 
by  fhe  Queen  of  England,  and  no  representa- 
tives of  any  of  the  established  governments 
would  think  of  offering  a remonstrance.  If 
the  Emperor  of  Austria  was  likely  to  be 
offended  by  Lord  Palmerston’s  receiving  a 
visit  from  Kossuth,  the  only  course  for  an 
English  minister,  as  it  seems  to  us,  was  to 
leave  him  to  be  offended,  and  to  recover 
from  his  anger  whenever  he  chose  to  allow 
common  sense  to  resume  possession  of  his 
mind.  The  Queen  of  England  might  as  well 
have  taken  offence  at  the  action  of  the 
American  Government,  who  actually  gave, 
not  merely  private  receptions,  but  public  ap- 


pointments, to  Irish  refugees  after  the  out- 
break of  1848. 

Lord  Palmerston,  however,  gave  way,  and 
did  not  receive  the  visit  from  Kossuth.  The 
hoped-for  result,  that  of  sparing  the  sensibili- 
ties of  the  Austrian  Government,  was  not  at- 
tained. In  fact,  things  turned  out  a great 
deal  worse  than  they  might  have  done  if  the 
interview  between  Lord  Palmerston  and  Kos- 
suth had  been  quietly  allowed  to  come  off. 
Meetings  were  held  to  express  sympathy 
with  Kossuth,  and  addresses  were  voted  to 
Lord  Palmerston  thanking  him  for  the  influ- 
ence he  had  exerted  in  preventing  the  sur- 
render of  Kossuth  to  Austria.  Lord  Pal- 
merston consented  to  receive  these  addresses 
from  the  hands  of  deputations  at  the  Foreign 
Office.  The  deputations  represented  certain 
metropolitan  parishes,  and  were  the  expo- 
nents of  markedly  Radical  opinions.  Some  of 
the  addresses  contained  strong  language  with 
reference  to  the  Austrian  Government  and 
the  Austrian  Sovereign.  Lord  Palmerston 
observed  in  his  reply  that  there  were  expres- 
sions contained  in  the  addresses  with  which 
he  could  hardly  be  expected  to  concur  ; but 
he  spoke  in  a manner  which  conveyed  the 
idea  that  his  sympathies  generally  were  with 
the  cause  which  the  deputations  had  adopt- 
ed. This  was  the  speech  containing  a phrase 
which  was  identified  with  Palmerston’s 
name,  and  held  to  be  specially  characteristic 
of  his  way  of  speaking,  and  indeed  of  think- 
ing, for  many  years  after — in  fact  to  the 
close  of  his  career.  The  noble  lord  told  the 
deputation  that  the  past  crisis  was  one  which 
required  on  the  part  of  the  British  Govern- 
ment much  generalship  and  judgment ; and 
that  ‘ ‘ a good  deal  of  judicious  bottle-hold- 
ing was  obliged  to  be  brought  into  play.” 
The  phrase  “ bottle-holding,”  borrowed 
from  the  prize  ring,  offended  a good  many 
persons  who  thought  the  past  crisis  far  too 
grave,  and  the  issues  it  involved  too  stern,  to 
be  properly  described  in  language  of  such 
levity.  But  the  general  public  were  amused 
and  delighted  by  the  words,  and  the  judi- 
cious bottle-holder  became  more  of  a popular 
favorite  than  ever.  Some  of  the  published 
reports  put  this  a good  deal  more  strongly 
than  Lord  Palmerston  did,  or  at  least  than 
he  intended  to  do  ; and  he  always  insisted 
that  he  said  no  more  to  the  deputations  than 
he  had  often  said  in  the  House  of  Commons  ; 
and  that  he  had  expressly  declared  he  could 
not  concur  in  some  of  the  expressions  con- 
tained in  the  addresses.  Still,  the  whole  pro- 
ceeding considerably  alarmed  some  of  Lord 
Palmerston’s  colleagues,  and  was  regarded 
with  distinct  displeasure  by  the  Queen  and 
Prince  Albert.  The  Queen  specially  re- 
quested that  the  matter  should  be  brought  be- 
fore a Cabinet  Council.  Lord  John  Russell 
accordingly  laid  the  whole  question  before 
his  colleagues,  and  the  general  opinion  seem- 
ed to  be  that  Lord  Palmerston  had  acted 
with  want  of  caution.  No  formal  resolution 
was  adopted.  It  was  thought  that  the  gene- 
ral expression  of  opinion  from  his  colleagues 
and  the  known  displeasure  of  the  Queen 
would  be  enough  to  impress  the  necessity  for 
greater  prudence  on  the  mind  of  the  Foreign 
Secretary.  Lord  John  Russell,  in  communi- 
cating with  her  Majesty  as  to  the  proceedings 
of  the  Cabinet  Council,  expressed  a hope  that 
“ it  will  have  its  effect  upon  Lord  Palmer- 
ston, to  whom  Lord  John  Russell  has  written 
urging  the  necessity  of  a guarded  conduct  in 
the  present  very  critical  condition  of  Eu- 
rope.” This  letter  was  not  written  when 
startling  evidence  was  on  its  way  to  show 
that  the  irrepressible  Foreign  Secretary  had 
been  making  a stroke  off  his  own  bat  again  ; 
and  a stroke  this  time  of  capital  importance 
in  the  general  game  of  European  politics. 
The  possible  indiscretion  of  Lord  Palmer- 
ston’s dealings  with  a deputation  or  two 
from  Finsbury  and  Islington  became  a mat- 
ter of  little  interest  when  the  country  was 
called  upon  to  consider  the  propriety  of  the 
I Foreign  Secretary’s  dealings  with  the  new 


ruler  of  a new  state  system,  with  the  author 
of  the  coup  d’etat. 

The  news  of  the  coup  d’etat  took  England 
by  surprise.  A shock  went  through  the 
whole  country.  Never  probably  was  pub- 
lic opinion  more  unanimous,  for  the  hour 
at  least,  than  in  condemnation  of  the  stroke 
of  policy  ventured  on  by  Louis  Napoleon, 
and  the  savage  manner  in  which  it  was  car- 
ried to  success.  After  a while  no  doubt  a 
considerable  portion  of  the  English  public 
came  to  look  more  leniently  on  what  had 
been  done.  Many  soon  grew  accustomed  to 
the  story  of  the  massacres  along  the  Boule- 
vards of  Paris,  and  lost  all  sense  of  their  hor- 
ror. Some  disposed  of  the  whole  affair  after 
the  satisfactory  principle  so  commonly  adopt- 
ed by  English  people  in  judging  of  foreign 
affairs,  and  assumed  that  the  system  intro- 
duced by  Louis  Napoleon  was  a very  good 
sort  of  thing — for  the  French.  After  a while 
a certain  admiration,  not  to  say  adulation,  of 
Louis  Napoleon,  began  to  be  a kind  of  faith 
with  many  Englishmen,  and  the  coup  d’etat 
was  condoned  and  even  approved  by  them. 
But  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  when  the 
story  first  came  to  be  told  in  England,  the 
almost  universal  voice  of  opinion  condemned 
it  as  strongly  as  nearly  all  men  of  genuine 
enlightenment  and  feeling  condemned  it  then 
and  since.  The  Queen  was  particularly 
anxious  that  nothing  should  be  said  by  the 
British  ambassador  to  commit  us  to  any  appro- 
val of  what  had  been  done.  On  December  4 
the  Queen  wrote  to  Lord  John  Russell  from 
Osborne,  expressing  her  desire  that  Lord 
Normanby,  our  ambassador  at  Paris,  should 
be  instructed  to  remain  entirely  passive  and 
say  no  word  that  might  be  misconstrued  into 
approval  of  the  action  of  the  Prince  Presi- 
dent. The  Cabinet  met  that  same  day  and 
decided  that  it  was  expedient  to  follow  most 
closely  her  Majesty’s  instructions.  But  they 
decided  also,  and  very  properly,  that  there 
was  no  reason  for  Lord  Normanby  suspend- 
ing his  diplomatic  functions.  Lord  Norman- 
by had  in  fact  applied  for  instructions  on  this 
point.  Next  day  Lord  Palmerston,  as 
Foreign  Secretary,  wrote  to  Lord  Normanby, 
informing  him  that  he  was  to  make  no  change 
in  his  diplomatic  relations  with  the  French 
Government.  Lord  Normanby’s  reply  to 
this  despatch  created  a startling  sensation. 
Our  ambassador  wrote  to  say  that  when  he 
called  on  the  French  Minister  for  Foreign 
Affairs  to  inform  him  that  he  had  been  in- 
structed by  her  Majesty’s  Government  not  to 
make  any  change  in  his  relations  with  the 
French  Government,  the  Minister,  M.  Tur- 
got, told  him  that  he  had  heard  two  days  be- 
fore from  Count  Walewski,  the  French  am- 
bassador in  London,  that  Lord  Palmerston 
had  expressed  to  him  his  entire  approval  of 
what  Louis  Napoleon  had  done,  and  his  con- 
viction that  the  Prince  President  could  not 
have  acted  otherwise.  It  would  not  be  easy 
to  exaggerate  the  sensation  produced  among 
Lord  Palmerston’s  colleagues  by  this  astound- 
ing piece  of  news.  The  Queen  wrote  at  once 
to  Lord  John  Russell,  asking  him  if  he  knew 
anything  about  the  approval  which  ‘‘the 
French  Government  pretend  to  have  re- 
ceived declaring  that  she  could  not  “ be- 
lieve in  the  truth  of  the  assertion,  as  such  an 
approval  given  by  Lord  Palmerston  would 
have  been  in  complete  contradiction  to  the 
line  of  strict  neutrality  and  passiveness  which 
the  Queen  had  expressed  her  desire  to  see  fol- 
lowed with  regard  to  the  late  convulsions  at 
Paris.”  Lord  John  Russell  replied  that  he 
had  already  written  to  Lord  Palmerston, 

‘ ‘ saying  that  he  presumed  there  was  no  truth 
in  the  report.”  The  reply  of  Lord  Palmer- 
ston was  delayed  for  what  Lord  John  Russell 
thought  an  unreasonable  length  of  time  at 
such  a crisis  ; but  when  it  came  it  left  no 
doubt  that  Lord  Palmerston  had  expressed  to 
Count  Walewski  his  approval  of  the  coup 
d’etat.  Lord  Palmerston  observed  indeed 
that  Walewski  had  probably  given  to  M.  Tur- 
got a somewhat  highly  colored  report  of 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


79 


what  he  had  said,  and  that  the  report  had 
lost  nothing  in  passing  from  M.  Turgot  to 
Lord  Normanby  ; but  the  substance  of  the 
letter  was  a full  admission  that  Lord  Palmer- 
ston approved  of  what  had  been  done,  and 
had  expressed  his  approval  to  Count  Walew- 
ski.  The  letters  of  explanation  which  the 
Foreign  Minister  wrote  on  the  subject, 
whether  to  Lord  Normanby  or  to  Lord  John 
Russell,  were  elaborate  justifications  of  the 
coup  d’etat ; they  were  in  fact  exactly  such 
arguments  as  a minister  of  Louis  Naploeon 
might  with  great  propriety  address  to  a 
foreign  Court.  They  were  full  of  an  undis- 
guised and  characteristic  contempt  for  any  one 
who  could  think  otherwise  on  the  subject 
than  as  Lord  Palmerston  thought.  In  reply- 
ing to  Lord  John  Russell  the  contempt  was 
expressed  in  a quiet  sneer  ; in  the  letters  to 
Lord  Normanby  it  was  obtrusively  and 
offensively  put  forward.  Lord  John  Russell 
in  vain  endeavored  to  fasten  Palmerston’s 
attention  on  the  fact  that  the  question  was 
not  whether  the  action  of  Louis  Napoleon 
was  historically  justifiable,  but  whether  the 
conduct  of  the  English  Foreign  Minister  in 
expressing  approval  of  it  without  the  knowl- 
edge and  against  the  judgment  of  the  Queen 
and  his  colleagues  was  politically  justifiable. 
Lord  Palmerston  simply  returned  to  his  de- 
fence of  Louis  Napoleon  and  his  assertion 
that  the  Prince  President  was  only  anticipat- 
ing the  intrigues  of  the  Orleans  family  and 
the  plans  of  the  Assembly.  Lord  Palmerston 
indeed  gave  a very  minute  account  of  a plot 
among  the  Orleans  princes  for  a military 
rising  against  Louis  Napoleon.  No  evidence 
of  the  existence  of  any  such  plot  has  ever 
been  discovered.  Louis  Napoleon  never 
pleaded  the  existence  of  such  a plot  in  his 
own  justification  ; it  is  now,  we  believe,  uni- 
versally admitted  that  Lord  Palmerston  was 
for  once  the  victim  of  a mere  canard.  But 
even  if  there  had  been  an  Orleanist  plot,  or 
twenty  Orleanist  plots,  it  never  has  been  part 
of  the  duty  or  the  policy  of  an  English  Gov- 
ernment to  express  approval  of  anything  and 
everything  that  a foreign  ruler  may  do  to 
anticipate  or  put  down  a plot  against  him. 
The  measures  may  be  unjustifiable  in  their 
principle  or  in  their  severity  ; the  plot  may 
be  of  insignificant  importance,  utterly  inade- 
quate to  excuse  any  extraordinary  measures. 
The  English  Government  is  not  in  ordinary 
cases  called  upon  to  express  any  opinion 
whatever.  It  had  in  this  case  deliberately 
decided  that  all  expression  of  opinion  should 
be  scrupulously  avoided,  lest  by  any  chance 
the  French  Government  should  be  led  to  be- 
lieve that  England  approved  of  what  had 
been  done. 

Lord  Palmerston  endeavored  to  draw  a dis- 
tinction between  the  expressions  of  a Foreign 
Secretary  in  conversation  with  an  ambassador, 
and  a formal  declaration  of  opinion.  But  it 
is  clear  that  the  French  ambassador  did  not 
understand  Lord  Palmerston  to  be  merely 
indulging  in  the  irresponsible  gossip  of  pri- 
vate life.,  and  that  Lord  Palmerston  never 
said  a word  to  impress  him  with  the  belief 
that  their  conversation  had  that  colorless  and 
unmeaning  character.  In  any  case  it  was 
surely  a piece  of  singular  indiscretion  on  the 
part  of  a Foreign  Minister  to  give  to  the 
French  ambassador,  even  in  private  conver- 
sation, an  unqualified  opinion  in  favor  of  a 
stroke  of  policy  of  which  the  British  Govern- 
ment as  a whole,  and  indeed  with  the  one 
exception  of  Lord  Palmerston,  entirely  dis- 
approved. To  give  such  an  opinion  without 
qualification  or  explanation  was  to  mislead 
the  French  ambassador  in  the  grossest  man- 
ner, and  to  send  him  away,  as  in  fact  he  was 
sent,  under  the  impression  that  the  conduct 
of  his  chief  had  the  approval  of  the  Sovereign 
and  Government  of  England.  Let  it  be  re- 
membered further  that  the  Foreign  Secretary 
who  did  this  had  been  again  and  again  re- 
buked for  acting  on  his  own  responsibility, 
for  saying  and  doing  things  which  pledged, 
or  seemed  to  pledge,  the  responsibility  of  the 


Government  without  any  authority,  that  a 
formal  threat  of  dismissal  actually  hung  over 
his  head  in  the  event  of  his  repeating  such 
indiscretions,  and  we  shall  be  better  able  to 
form  some  idea  of  the  sensation  which  was 
created  in  England  by  the  revelation  of  Lord 
Palmerston’s  conduct.  Many  of  his  col- 
leagues had  cordially  sympathized  with  his 
views  on  the  occasion  of  former  indiscre- 
tions ; and  even  while  admitting  that  he  had 
been  indiscreet,  yet  acknowledged  to  them- 
selves that  their  opinion  on  the  broad  ques- 
tion involved  was  not  different  from  his. 
But  even  these  drew  back  from  any  approval 
of  his  conduct  in  regard  to  the  coup  d’etat. 
The  almost  universal  judgment  was  that  he 
had  gone  surprisingly  wrong.  Not  a few, 
finding  it  impossible  to  account  otherwise  for 
such  a proceeding,  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  he  must  have  been  determined  somehow 
to  bring  about  a rupture  with  his  colleagues 
of  the  Cabinet,  and  had  chosen  this  high- 
handed assertion  of  his  will  as  the  best  means 
of  flinging  his  defiance  in  their  teeth. 

Lord  John  Russell  made  up  his  mind.  He 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  could  no  longer 
go  on  with  Lord  Palmerston  as  a colleague 
in  the  Foreign  Office,  and  he  signified  his 
decision  to  Lord  Palmerston  himself. 
“ While  I concur,  ” thus  Lord  John  Russell 
wrote,  “ in  the  foreign  policy  of  which  you 
have  been  the  adviser,  and  much  as  I admire 
the  energy  and  ability  with  which  it  has  been 
carried  into  effect,  I cannot  but  observe  that 
misunderstandings  perpetually  renewed,  vio- 
lations of  prudence  and  decorum  too  fre- 
quently repeated,  have  marred  the  effects 
which  ought  to  have  followed  from  a sound 
policy  and  able  administration.  I am  there- 
fore most  reluctantly  compelled  to  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  conduct  of  foreign 
affairs  can  no  longer  be  left  in  your  hands 
with  advantage  to  the  country.  ’ ’ Rather  un- 
fortunately, Lord  John  Russell  endeavored 
to  soften  the  blow  by  offering,  if  Lord  Palmer- 
ston should  be  willing,  to  recommend  him  to 
the  Queen  to  fill  the  office  of  Lord- Lieutenant 
of  Ireland.  This  was  a proposal  which  we 
agree  with  Mr.  Evelyn  Ashley,  Lord  Palmer- 
ston’s biographer,  in  regarding  as  almost 
comical  in  its  character.  Lord  Palmerston’s 
whole  soul  was  in  foreign  affairs.  He  had 
never  affected  any  particular  interest  in  Irish 
business.  He  cared  little  even  for  the  home 
politics  of  England  ; it  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion to  suppose  that  he  would  consent  to  bury 
himself  in  the  Viceregal  Court  of  Dublin  and 
occupy  his  diplomatic  talents  in  composing 
disputes  for  precedence  between  Protestant 
deans  and  Catholic  bishops,  and  in  doling  out 
the  due  proportion  of  invitations  to  the  vari- 
ous ranks  of  aspiring  traders  and  shopkeepers 
and  their  wives.  Lord  Palmer  ston  declined 
the  offer  with  open  contempt,  and  indeed  it 
can  hardly  be  supposed  for  a moment  that 
Lord  John  Russell  expected  he  would  have 
seriously  entertained  it.  The  quarrel  was 
complete ; Lord  Palmerston  ceased  for  the 
time  to  be  Foreign  Secretary,  and  his  place 
was  taken  by  Lord  Granville. 

Seldom  has  a greater  sensation  been  pro- 
duced by  the  removal  of  a minister.  The 
effect  which  was  created  all  over  Europe  was 
probably  just  what  Lord  Palmerston  himself 
would  have  desired ; the  belief  prevailed 
everywhere  that  he  had  been  sacrificed  to  the 
monarchical  and  reactionary  influences  all 
over  the  Continent.  The  statesmen  of  Europe 
were  under  the  impression  that  Lord  Palmer- 
ston was  put  out  of  office  as  an  evidence  that 
England  was  about  to  withdraw  from  her 
former  attitude  of  sympathy  with  the  popu- 
lar movements  of  the  Continent.  Lord  Pal- 
merston himself  fell  under  a delusion  which 
seems  marvellous  in  a man  possessed  of  his 
clear,  strong  common  sense.  He  conceived 
that  lie  had  been  sacrificed  to  reactionary  in- 
trigue. He  wrote  to  his  brother  to  say  that 
the  real  ground  for  his  dismissal  was  a 
“ weak  truckling  to  the  hostile  intrigues  of 
the  Orleans  family,  Austria,  Russia,  Saxony, 


and  Bavaria,  and  in  some  degree  of  the  pres- 
ent Prussian  Government.”  “ All  these 
parties,”  he  said,  ‘‘found  their  respective 
views  and  systems  of  policy  thwarted  by  the 
course  pursued  by  the  British  Government, 
and  they  thought  that  if  they  could  remove 
the  minister  they  would  change  the  policy. 
They  had  for  a long  time  past  effectually 
poisoned  the  mind  of  the  Queen  and  Prince 
against  me,  and  John  Russell  giving  way 
rather  encouraged  than  discountenanced  the 
desire  of  the  Queen  to  remove  me  from  the 
Foreign  Office.”  So  strongly  did  the  idea 
prevail  that  an  intrigue  of  foreign  diploma- 
tists had  overthrown  Palmerston,  that  the 
Russian  ambassador,  Baron  Brunnow,  took 
the  very  ill-advised  step  of  addressing  to  Lord 
John  Russell  a disclaimer  of  any  participation 
in  such  a proceeding.  The  Queen  made  a 
proper  comment  on  the  letter  of  Baron 
Brunnow  by  describing  it  as  “ very  pre- 
suming,” inasmuch  as  it  insinuated  the  pos- 
sibility “ of  changes  of  governments  in  this 
country  taking  place  at  the  instigation  of 
foreign  ministers.”  Lord  Palmerston  was  of 
course  entirely  mistaken  in  supposing  that 
any  foreign  interference  had  contributed  to 
his  removal  from  the  Foreign  Office.  The 
only  wonder  is  how  a man  so  experienced  as 
he  could  have  convinced  himself  of  such  a 
thing  ; at  least  it  would  be  a wonder  if  one 
did  not  know  that  the  most  experienced 
author  or  artist  can  always  persuade  himself 
that  a disparaging  critique  is  the  result  of 
personal  and  malignant  hostility.  But  that 
the  feeling  of  the  Queen  and  the  Prince  had 
long  been  against  him  can  hardly  admit  of 
dispute.  Prince  Albert  seems  not  to  have 
taken  any  pains  to  conceal  his  dislike  and  dis- 
trust of  Palmerston.  Nearly  two  years  be- 
fore, when  the  French  ambassador  was  re- 
called for  a time,  the  Prince  wrote  to  Lord 
John  Russell  to  say  that  both  the  Queen  and 
himself  were  exceedingly  sorry  to  hear  of  the 
recall ; adding,  ‘‘We  are  not  surprised,  how- 
ever, that  Lord  Palmerston’s  mode  of  doing 
business  should  not  be  borne  by  the  suscepti- 
ble French  Government  with  the  same  good- 
humor  and  forbearance  as  by  his  colleagues.  ” 
At  the  moment  when  Lord  John  Russell  re- 
solved on  getting  rid  of  Lord  Palmerston, 
Prince  Albert  wrote  to  him  to  say  that  ‘ ‘ the 
sudden  termination  of  your  difference  with 
Lord  Palmerston  has  taken  us  much  by  sur- 
prise, as  we  were  wont  to  see  such  differences 
terminate  in  his  carrying  his  points,  and  leav- 
ing the  defence  of  them  to  his  colleagues,  and 
the  discredit  to  the  Queen.”  It  is  clear  from 
this  letter  alone  that  the  Court  was  set  against 
Lord  Palmerston  at  that  time.  The  Court 
] was  sometimes  right  where  Palmerston  was 
| wrong  ; but  the  fact  that  he  then  knew  him- 
self to  be  in  antagonism  to  the  Court  is  of 
importance  both  in  judging  of  his  career  and 
j in  estimating  the  relative  strength  of  forces 
j in  the  politics  of  England. 

| Lord  Palmerston  then  was  dismissed.  The 
meeting  of  Parliament  took  place  on  the  3d 
of  February  following,  1852.  It  would  be 
superfluous  to  say  that  the  keenest  anxiety 
was  felt  to  know  the  full  reasons  of  the 
sudden  dismissal.  To  quote  the  words  used 
by  Mr.  Roebuck,  “ The  most  marked  person 
in  the  Administration,  he  around  whom  all 
the  party  battles  of  the  Administration  had 
been  fought,  whose  political  existence  had 
been  made  the  political  existence  of  the  Gov- 
ernment itself,  the  person  on  whose  being  in 
office  the  Government  rested  their  existence 
as  a government,  was  dismissed  ; their  right 
hand  was  cut  off,  their  most  powerful  arm 
was  taken  away,  and  at  the  critical  time 
when  it  was  most  needed.”  The  House  of 
Commons  was  not  long  left  to  wait  for  an 
explanation.  Lord  John  Russell  made  a long 
speech,  in  which  he  went  into  the  whole  his- 
tory of  the  differences  between  Lord  Palmer- 
ston and  his  colleagues  ; and,  what  was  more 
surprising  to  the  House,  into  a history  of  the 
late  Foreign  Secretary’s  differences  with  his 
Sovereign,  and  the  threat  of  dismissal  which 


80 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


liad  so  loug  been  hanging  over  his  head. 
The  Prime  Minister  read  to  the  House  the 
Queen’s  memorandum,  which  we  have  already 
quoted.  Lord  John  Russell’s  speech  was  a 
great  success.  Lord  Palmerston’s  was,  even 
in  the  estimation  of  his  closest  friends,  a fail- 
ure. Par  different,  indeed,  was  the  effect  it 
produced  from  the  almost  magical  influence 
of  that  wonderful  speech  on  the  “ Don  Pa- 
cifico”  question,  which  had  compelled  even 
unconvinced  opponents  to  genuine  admira- 
tion. Palmerston  seemed  to  have  practically 
no  defence.  He  only  went  over  again  the 
points  put  by  him  in  the  correspondence  al- 
ready noticed  ; contended  that  on  the  whole 
he  had  judged  rightly  of  the  French  crisis, 
and  that  he  could  not  help  forming  an  opinion 
on  it,  and  so  forth.  Of  the  Queen’s  memo- 
randum he  said  nothing.  He  did  not  even 
attempt  to  explain  how  it  came  about  that, 
having  received  so  distinct  and  severe  an  in- 
junction, he  had  ventured  deliberately  to  dis- 
regard it  in  a matter  of  the  greatest  national 
importance.  Some  of  his  admirers  were  of 
opinion  then  and  long  after  that  the  reading 
of  the  memorandum  must  have  come  on  him 
by  surprise  ; that  Lord  John  Russell  must 
have  sprung  a mine  upon  him  ; and  that 
Palmerston  was  taken  unfairly  and  at  a dis- 
advantage. But  it  is  certain  that  Lord  John 
Russell  gave  notice  to  his  late  colleague  of 
his  intention  to  read  the  memorandum  of  the 
Queen.  Besides,  Lord  Palmerston  was  one 
of  the  most  ready  and  self-possessed  speakers 
that  ever  addressed  the  House  of  Commons. 
During  the  very  reading  of  the  memorandum 
he  could  have  found  time  to  arrange  his 
ideas,  and  to  make  out  some  show  of  a case 
for  himself.  The  truth,  we  believe,  is  that 
Lord  Palmerston  deliberately  declined  to 
make  any  reply  to  that  part  of  Lord  John 
Russell’s  speech  which  disclosed  the  letter 
from  the  Queen.  He  made  up  his  mind  that 
a dispute  between  a sovereign  and  a subject 
would  be  unbecoming  of  both  ; and  he  passed 
over  the  memorandum  in  deliberate  silence. 
He  doubtless  felt  convinced  that,  even  though 
such  discretion  involved  him  for  the  moment 
in  seeming  defeat,  it  would  in  the  long  run 
reckon  to  liis  credit  and  his  advantage.  Lord 
Dalling,  better  known  as  Sir  Henry  Bul- 
wer,  was  present  during  the  debate,  and 
formed  an  opinion  of  Palmerston’s  conduct 
which  seems  in  every  way  correct  and  far- 
seeing.  “ I must  say,”  Lord  Dalling  writes, 
‘ ‘ that  I never  admired  him  so  much  as  at  this 
crisis.  He  evidently  thought  he  had  been  ill- 
treated  ; but  I never  heard  him  make  an  un- 
fair or  irritable  remark,  nor  did  he  seem  in 
anywise  stunned  by  the  blow  he  had  received, 
or  dismayed  by  the  isolated  position  in  which 
he  stood.  I should  say  that  he  seemed  to 
consider  that  he  had  a quarrel  put  upon  him 
which  it  was  his  wisest  course  to  close  by 
receiving  the  fire  of  his  adversary  and  not  re- 
turning it.  He  could  not  in  fact  have  gained 
a victory  against  the  Premier  on  the  ground 
which  Lord  John  Russell  had  chosen  for  the 
combat,  which  would  not  have  been  more 
permanently  disadvantageous  to  him  than  a 
defeat.  The  faults  of  which  he  had  been 
accused  did  not  touch  his  own  honor  nor  that 
of  his  country.  Let  them  be  admitted  and 
there  was  an  end  of  the  matter.  By  and  by 
an  occasion  would  probably  arise,  in  which 
he  might  choose  an  advantageous  occasion 
for  giving  battle,  and  he  was  willing  to  wait 
calmly  for  that  occasion.” 

Lord  Dalling  judged  accurately  so  far  as 
his  judgment  went.  But  while  we  agree 
with  him  in  thinking  that  Lord  Palmerston 
refrained  from  returning  his  adversary’s  fire 
for  the  reasons  Lord  Dalling  has  given,  we 
are  strongly  of  opinion  that  other  reasons 
too  influenced  Palmerston.  He  knew  that 
he  was  not  at  that  time  much  liked  or  trusted 
by  the  Queen  and  Prince  Albert.  He  was 
not  sorry  that  the  fact  should  be  made  known 
to  the  world.  He  thoroughly  understood 
English  public  opinion,  and  was  not  above 
taking  advantage  of  its  moods  and  its  preju- 


dices. He  did  not  think  a statesman  would 
stand  any  the  worse  in  the  general  estimation 
of  the  English  public  then  because  it  was 
known  that  he  was  not  admired  by  Prince 
Albert. 

But  the  almost  universal  opinion  of  the 
House  of  Commons  and  of  the  clubs  was  that 
Lord  Palmerston’s  career  was  closed. 
“ Palmerston  is  smashed  !”  was  the  common 
saying  of  the  clubs.  A night  or  two  after  the 
debate  Lord  Dalling  met  Mr.  Disraeli  on  the 
staircase  of  the  Russian  Embassy,  and  Dis- 
raeli remarked  to  him  that  “ there  was  a 
Palmerston.” 

Lord  Palmerston  evidently  did  not  think 
so.  The  letters  he  wrote  to  friends  immedi- 
ately after  his  fall  show  him  as  jaunty  and 
full  of  confidence  as  ever.  He  was  quite 
satisfied  with  the  way  things  had  gone.  He 
waited  calmly  for  what  he  called,  a few  days 
afterwards,  “ my  tit-for-tat  with  John  Rus- 
sell,” which  came  about  indeed  sooner  than 
even  he  himself  could  well  have  expected. 

We  have  not  hesitated  to  express  our  opin- 
ion that  throughout  the  whole  of  this  partic- 
ular dispute  Lord  Palmerston  was  in  the 
wrong.  He  was  in  the  wrong  in  many,  if  not 
most  of  the  controversies  which  had  preceded 
it.  That  is  to  say,  he  was  wrong  in  commit- 
ting England,  as  he  so  often  did,  to  measures 
which  had  not  had  the  approval  of  the  Sov- 
ereign or  his  colleagues.  In  the  memorable 
dispute  which  brought  matters  to  a crisis  he 
seems  to  us  to  have  been  in  the  wrong  not 
less  in  what  he  did  than  in  his  manner  of 
doing  it.  Yet  it  ought  not  to  have  been 
difficult  for  a calm  observer  even  at  the  time 
to  see  that  Lord  Palmerston  was  likely  to 
have  the  best  of  the  controversy  in  the  end. 
The  faults  of  which  he  was  principally  ac- 
cused were  not  such  as  the  English  people 
would  find  it  very  hard  to  forgive.  He  was 
said  to  be  too  brusque  and  high-handed  in  his 
dealings  with  foreign  states  and  ministers  ; 
but  it  did  not  seem  to  the  English  people  in 
general  as  if  this  was  an  offence  for  which 
his  own  countrymen  were  bound  to  condemn 
him  too  severely.  There  was  a general  im- 
pression that  his  influence  was  exer.cised  on 
behalf  of  popular  movements  abroad  ; and 
an  impression  nearly  as  general  that  if  he  had 
not  acted  a good  deal  on  his  own  impulses 
and  of  his  own  authority  he  could  hardly 
have  served  any  popular  cause  so  well.  The 
coup  d’etat  certainly  was  not  popular  in  Eng- 
land. For  a long  time  it  was  a subject  of 
general  reprehension  ; but  even  at  that  time 
men  who  condemned  the  coup  d’etat  wTere  not 
disposed  to  condemn  Lord  Palmerston  over- 
much because,  acting  as  usual  on  a personal 
impulse,  he  had  in  that  instance  made  a mis- 
take. There  was  even  in  his  error  something 
dashing,  showy,  and  captivating  to  the  gen- 
eral public.  He  made  the  influence  of  Eng- 
land felt,  people  said.  His  chief  fault  was 
that  he  was  rather  too  strong  for  those  around 
him.  If  any  grave  crisis  came,  he,  it  was 
murmured,  and  he  alone,  would  be  equal  to 
the  occasion  and  would  maintain  the  dignity 
of  England.  Neither  in  w’ar  nor  in  states- 
manship does  a man  suffer  much  loss  of  pop- 
ularity by  occasionally  disobeying  orders  and 
accomplishing  daring  feats.  Lord  Palmer- 
ston saw  his  way  clearly  at  a critical  period 
of  his  career.  He  saw  that  at  that  time  there 
was,  rightly  or  wrongly,  a certain  jealousy  of 
the  influence  of  Prince  Albert,  and  he  did 
not  hesitate  to  take  advantage  of  the  fact. 
He  bore  his  temporary  disgrace  with  well- 
justified  composure.  “ The  devil  aids  him 
surely,”  says  Sussex,  speaking  to  Raleigh  of 
Leicester  in  Scott’s  “ Kenilworth,”  “ for  all 
that  would  sink  another  ten  fathom  deep 
seems  but  to  make  him  float  the  more  easily. ' ’ 
Some  rival  may  have  thought  thus  of  Lord 
Palmerston. 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

BIRTH  OF  THE  EMPIRE;  DEATH  OF  “THE 
DUKE.” 

TnE  year  1852  was  one  of  profound  emo- 


tion and  even  excitement  in  England.  An 
able  writer  has  remarked  that  the  history  of 
the  Continent  of  Europe  might  be  traced 
through  the  history  of  England,  if  all  other 
sources  of  information  were  destroyed,  by 
the  influence  which  every  great  event  in  Con- 
tinental affairs  produces  on  the  mood  and  pol- 
icy of  England.  As  the  astronomer  infers 
the  existence  and  the  attributes  of  some  star 
his  keenest  glass  will  not  reveal  by  the  per- 
turbations its  neighborhood  causes  to  some 
body  of  light  within  his  ken,  so  the  student 
of  English  history  might  well  discover  com- 
motion on  the  Continent  by  the  evidence  of 
a corresponding  movement  in  England.  All 
through  the  year  1852  the  national  mind  of 
England  was  disturbed.  The  country  was 
stirring  itself  in  quite  an  unusual  manner. 
A military  spirit  was  exhibiting  itself  every- 
where, not  unlike  that  told  of  in  Shakes- 
peare’s “ Henry  the  Fourth.”  The  England 
of  1852  seems  to  threaten  that  “ ere  this  year 
expire  we  bear  our  civil  swords  and  native 
fire  as  far  as  France.”  At  least  the  civil 
swords  were  sharpened  in  order  that  the  coun- 
try might  be  ready  for  a possible  and  even  an 
anticipated  invasion  from  France.  The  Vol- 
unteer movement  sprang  into  sudden  exist- 
ence. All  over  the  country  corps  of  young 
volunteers  were  being  formed.  An  immense 
amount  of  national  enthusiasm  accompanied 
and  acclaimed  the  formation  of  the  volunteer 
army,  which  received  the  sanction  of  the 
Crown  early  in  the  year,  and  thus  became  a 
national  institution. 

The  meaning  of  all  this  movement  was  ex- 
plained some  years  after  by  Mr.  Tennyson, 
in  a string  of  verses  which  did  more  honor 
perhaps  to  his  patriotic  feeling  than  to  his 
poetic  genius.  The  verses  are  absurdly  un- 
worthy of  Tennyson  as  a poet ; but  they  ex- 
press with  unmistakable  clearness  the  pop- 
ular sentiment  of  the  hour  ; the  condition  of 
uncertainty,  vague  alarm,  and  very  general 
determination  to  be  ready  at  all  events  for 
whatever  might  come.  “ Form,  form,  rifle- 
men, form,”  wrote  the  Laureate  ; “ better  a 
rotten  borough  or  two  than  a rotten  fleet  and 
a town  in  flames.”  “True  that  we  have  a 
faithful  ally,  but  only  the  devil  knows  what 
he  means.”  This  was  the  alarm  and  the  ex- 
planation. We  had  a faithful  ally,  no  doubt ; 
but  we  certainly  did  not  quite  know  what  he 
meant.  All  the  earlier  part  of  the  year  had 
witnessed  the  steady  progress  of  the  Prince 
President  of  France  to  an  imperial  throne. 
The  previous  year  had  closed  upon  his  coup 
d’etat.  He  had  arrested,  imprisoned,  banished 
or  shot  his  principal  enemies,  and  had  demand- 
ed from  the  French  people  a Presidency  for 
ten  years,  a Ministry  responsible  to  the  ex- 
ecutive power — himself  alone — and  two  po- 
litical Chambers  to  be  elected  by  universal 
suffrage.  Nearly  five  hundred  prisoners,  un- 
tried before  any  tribunal,  even  that  of  a drum- 
head, had  been  shipped  off  to  Cayenne.  The 
streets  of  Paris  had  been  soaked  in  blood. 
The  President  instituted  a plebiscite, or  vote  of 
the  whole  people,  and  of  course  he  got  all  he 
asked  for.  There  was  no  arguing  with  the 
commander  of  twenty  legions,  and  of  such 
legions  as  those  that  had  operated  with  terri- 
ble efficiency  on  the  Boulevards.  The  first 
day  of  the  new  year  saw  the  religious  cere- 
mony at  Notre  Dame  to  celebrate  the  accept- 
ance of  the  ten  years’  presidency  by  Louis 
Napoleon.  The  same  day  a decree  was  pub- 
lished in  the  name  of  the  President  declaring 
that  the  French  eagle  should  be  restored  to 
the  standards  of  the  army,  as  a symbol  of 
the  regenerated  military  genius  of  France. 
A few  days  after,  the  Prince  President  decreed 
the  confiscation  of  the  property  of  the  Orleans 
family  and  restored  titles  of  nobility  in 
France.  The  birthday  of  the  Emperor  Na- 
poleon was  declared  by  decree  to  be  the  only 
national  holiday.  When  the  two  legislative 
bodies  came  to  be  sworn  in,  the  President 
made  an  announcement  which  certainly  did 
not  surprise  many  persons,  but  which  never- 
theless sent  a thrill  abroad  over  all  parts  of 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


81 


Europe.  If  hostile  parties  continued  to  plot 
against  him,  the  President  intimated,  and  to 
question  the  legitimacy  of  the  power  he  had 
assumed  by  virtue  of  the  national  vote,  then 
it  might  be  necessary  to  demand  from  the 
people,  in  the  name  of  the  repose  of  France, 
“ a new  title  which  will  irrevocably  fix  upon 
my  head  the  power  with  which  they  have  in- 
vested me.”  There  could  be  no  further 
doubt.  The  Bonapartist  Empire  was  to  be 
restored.  A new  Napoleon  was  to  come  to 
the  throne. 

“ Only  the  devil  knows  what  he  means,” 
indeed.  So  people  were  all  saying  through- 
out England  in  1852.  The  scheme  went  on 
to  its  development,  and  before  the  year  was 
quite  out  Louis  Napoleon  was  proclaimed 
Emperor  of  the  French.  Men  had  noticed 
as  a curious,  not  to  say  ominous,  coincidence 
that  on  the  very  day  when  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington died  the  Moniteur  announced  that 
the  French  people  were  receiving  the  Prince 
President  everywhere  as  the  Emperor-elect 
and  as  the  elect  of  God  ; and  another  French 
journal  published  an  article  hinting  not  ob- 
scurely at  the  invasion  and  conquest  of  Eng- 
land as  the  first  great  duty  of  a new  Napole- 
onic Empire.  The  Prince  President  indeed, 
in  one  of  the  provincial  speeches  which  he 
delivered  just  before  he  was  proclaimed  Em- 
peror, had  talked  earnestly  of  peace.  In  his 
famous  speech  to  the  Chamber  of  Commerce 
of  Bordeaux  on  October  9,  he  denied  that  the 
restored  Empire  would  mean  war.  “ I say,” 
he  declared,  raising  his  voice  and  speaking 
with  energy  and  emphasis,  ‘ ‘ the  Empire  is 
peace.”  But  the  assurance  did  not  do  much 
to  satisfy  Europe.  Had  not  the  same  voice, 
it  was  asked,  declaimed  with  equal  energy 
and  earnestness  the  terms  of  the  oath  to  the 
Republican  Constitution  ? Never,  said  a bit- 
ter enemy  of  the  new  Empire,  believe  the 
word  of  a Bonaparte,  unless  when  he  prom- 
ises to  kill  somebody.  Such  was  indeed  the 
common  sentiment  of  a large  number  of  the 
English  people  during  the  eventful  year  when 
the  President  became  Emperor,  and  Prince 
Louis  Napoleon  was  Napoleon  the  Third. 

It  would  have  been  impossible  that  the 
English  people  could  view  all  this  without 
emotion  and  alarm.  It  had  been  clearly  seen 
how  the  Prince  President  had  carried  his 
point  thus  far.  He  had  appealed  at  every 
step  to  the  memory  of  the  Napoleonic  legend. 
He  had  in  every  possible  way  revived  and  re- 
produced the  attributes  of  the  reign  of  the 
Great  Emperor.  His  accession  to  power  was 
strictly  a military  and  a Napoleonic  triumph. 
In  ordinary  circumstances  the  English  people 
would  not  have  troubled  themselves  much 
about  any  change  in  the  form  of  government 
of  a foreign  country.  They  might  have  felt 
a strong  dislike  for  the  manner  in  which  such 
a change  had  been  brought  about ; but  it 
would  have  been  in  nowise  a matter  of  per- 
sonal concern  to  them.  But  they  could  not 
see  with  indifference  the  rise  of  a new  Napo- 
leon to  power  on  the  strength  of  the  old  Na- 
poleonic legend.  The  one  special  character- 
istic of  the  Napoleonic  principle  was  its  hos- 
tility to  England.  The  life  of  the  Great  Na- 
poleon in  its  greatest  days  had  been  devoted 
to  the  one  purpose  of  humiliating  England. 
His  plans  had  been  foiled  by  England. 
Whatever  hands  may  have  joined  in  pressing 
him  to  the  ground,  there  could  be  no  doubt 
that  he  owed  his  fall  principally  to  Eng- 
land. He  died  a prisoner  of  England,  and 
with  his  hatred  of  her  embittered  rather 
than  appeased.  It  did  not  seem  unreasonable 
to  believe  that  the  successor  who  had  been 
enabled  to  mount  the  Imperial  throne  simply 
because  he  bore  the  name  and  represented  the 
principles  of  the  First  Napoleon  would  in- 
herit the  hatred  to  England  and  the  designs 
against  England.  Everything  else  that  sav- 
ored of  the  Napoleonic  era  had  been  revived  ; 
why  should  this,  its  principal  characteristic, 
be  allowed  to  lie  in  the  tomb  of  the  First 
Emperor  ? The  policy  of  the  First  Napoleon 
had  lighted  up  a fire  of  hatred  between  Eng- 


land and  France  which  at  one  time  seemed 
inextinguishable.  There  were  many  who 
regarded  that  international  hate  as  something 
like  that  of  the  hostile  brothers  in  the  classic 
story,  the  very  flames  of  whose  funeral  piles 
refused  to  mingle  in  the  air  ; or  like  that  of 
the  rival  Scottish  families,  whose  blood,  it 
was  said,  would  never  commingle  though 
poured  into  one  dish.  It  did  not  seem  pos- 
sible that  a new  Emperor  Napoleon  could 
arise  without  bringing  a restoration  of  that 
hatred  along  with  him. 

There  were  some  personal  reasons,  too,  for 
particular  distrust  of  the  upcoming  Emperor 
among  the  English  people.  Louis  Napoleon 
had  lived  many  years  in  England.  He  was 
as  well  known  there  as  any  prominent  mem- 
ber of  the  English  aristocracy.  He  went  a 
good  deal  into  very  various  society,  literary, 
artistic,  merely  fashionable,  purely  rowdy, 
as  well  as  into  that  political  society  which 
might  have  seemed  natural  to  him.  In  all 
circles  the  same  opinion  appears  to  have  been 
formed  of  him.  From  the  astute  Lord  Pal- 
merston to  the  most  ignorant  of  the  horse- 
jockeys  and  ballet-girls  with  whom  he  occa 
sionally  consorted,  all  who  met  him  seemed 
to  think  of  the  Prince  in  much  the  same  way. 
It  was  agreed  on  all  hands  that  he  was  a fat- 
uous, dreamy,  moony,  impracticable,  stupid 
young  man.  A sort  of  stolid  amiability,  not 
enlightened  enough  to  keep  him  out  of  low 
company  and  questionable  conduct,  appeared 
to  be  his  principal  characteristic.  He  con- 
stantly talked  of  his  expected  accession  some- 
how and  some  time  to  the  throne  of  France, 
and  people  only  smiled  pityingly  at  him.  His 
attempts  at  Strasburg  and  Boulogne  had  cov- 
ered him  with  ridicule  and  contempt.  We 
cannot  remember  one  authentic  account  of 
any  Englishman  of  mark  at  that  time  having 
professed  to  see  any  evidence  of  capacity  and 
strength  of  mind  in  Prince  Louis  Napoleon. 

When  the  coup  d’etat  came  and  was  success- 
ful, the  amazement  of  the  English  public 
was  unbounded.  Never  had  any  plot  been 
more  skilfully  and  more  carefully  planned, 
more  daringly  carried  out.  Here  evidently 
was  a master  in  the  art  of  conspiracy.  Here 
was  the  combination  of  steady  caution  and 
boundless  audacity.  What  a subtlety  of  de- 
sign ; what  a perfection  of  silent  self-control  ! 
How  slowly  the  plan  had  been  matured  ; 
how  suddenly  it  was  flashed  upon  the  world 
and  carried  to  success.  No  haste  ; no  de- 
lay ; no  scruple,  no  remorse,  no  fear  ! And 
all  this  was  the  work  of  the  dull  dawdler  of 
English  drawing-rooms,  the  heavy,  apathetic, 
unmoral  rather  than  immoral  haunter  of 
English  race-courses  and  gambling-houses  ! 
What  new  surprise  might  not  be  feared, 
what  subtle  and  daring  enterprise  might  not 
reasonably  be  expected  from  one  who  could 
thus  conceal  and  thus  reveal  himself,  and  do 
both  with  a like  success  ! 

Louis  Napoleon,  said  a member  of  his  fam- 
ily, deceived  Europe  twice  : first  when  he 
succeeded  in  passing  off  as  an  idiot,  and 
next  when  he  succeeded  in  passing  off  as  a 
statesman.  The  epigram  had  doubtless  a 
great  deal  of  truth  in  it.  The  coup  d’etat  was 
probably  neither  planned  nor  carried  to  suc- 
cess by  the  cleverness  and  energy  of  Louis 
Napoleon.  Cooler  and  stronger  heads  and 
hands  are  responsible  for  the  execution  at 
least  of  that  enterprise.  The  Prince , it  is 
likely,  played  little  more  than  a passive  part 
in  it,  and  might  have  lost  his  nerve  more  than 
once  but  for  the  greater  resolution  of  some 
of  his  associates,  who  were  determined  to 
crown  him  for  their  own  sakes  as  well  as  for 
his.  But  at  the  time  the  world  at  large 
saw  only  Louis  Napoleon  in  the  whole  scheme, 
conception,  execution,  and  all.  The  idea 
was  formed  of  a colossal  figure  of  cunning 
and  daring — a Brutus,  a Talleyrand,  a Philip 
of  Spain,  and  a Napoleon  the  B'irst  all  in  one. 
Those  who  detested  him  most  admired  and 
feared  him  not  the  least.  Who  can  doubt,  it 
was  asked,  that  he  will  endeavor  to  make 
himself  the  heir  of  the  revenges  of  Napoleon  ? 


Who  can  believe  any  pledges  he  may  give 
How  enter  into  any  treaty  or  bond  of  any 
kind  with  such  a man  ? Where  is  the  one 
that  can  pretend  to  say  he  sees  through  him 
and  understands  his  schemes  ? 

Had  Louis  Napoleon  any  intention  at  any 
time  of  invading  England  V We  are  inclined 
to  believe  that  he  never  had  a regular  fixed 
plan  of  the  kind.  But  we  are  also  inclined  to 
think  that  the  project  entered  into  his  mind 
with  various  other  ideas  and  plans  more  or 
less  vague,  and  that  circumstances  might 
have  developed  it  into  an  actual  scheme. 
Louis  Napoleon  was  above  all  things  a man 
of  ideas  in  the  inferior  sense  of  the  word  ; 
that  is  to  say,  he  was  always  occupying  him- 
self with  vague,  dreamy  suggestions  of  plans 
that  might  in  this,  that,  or  the  other  case  be 
advantageously  pursued.  He  had  come  to 
power  probably  with  the  determination  to 
keep  it  and  make  himself  acceptable  to 
France  first  of  all.  After  this  came  doubtless 
the  sincere  desire  to  make  France  great  and 
powerful  and  prosperous.  At  first  he  had  no 
particular  notion  of  the  way  to  establish  him- 
self as  a popular  ruler,  and  it  is  certain  that 
he  turned  over  all  manner  of  plans  in  his 
mind  for  the  purpose.  Among  these  must 
certainly  have  been  one  for  the  invasion  of 
England  and  the  avenging  of  Waterloo.  He 
let  drop  hints  at  times  which  showed  that 
he  was  thinking  of  something  of  the  kind. 
He  talked  of  himself  as  representing  a de- 
feat. He  was  attacked  with  all  the  bit- 
terness of  a not  unnatural  but  very  unre- 
strained animosity  in  the  English  press  for 
his  conduct  in  the  coup  d'etat;  and  no 
doubt  he  and  his  companions  were  greatly 
exasperated.  The  mood  of  a large  portion 
of  the  French  people  was  distinctly  aggres- 
sive. Ashamed  to  some  degree  of  much  that 
had  been  done  and  that  they  had  had  to  suffer, 
many  Frenchmen  were  in  that  state  of  dis- 
satisfaction with  themselves  which  makes 
people  eager  to  pick  a quarrel  with  some  one 
else.  Had  Louis  Napoleon  been  inclined, 
he  might  doubtless  have  easily  stirred  liis 
people  to  the  war  mood  ; and  it  is  not  to  be 
believed  that  he  did  not  occasionally  contem- 
plate the  expediency  of  doing  something  of 
the  kind.  Assuredly,  if  he  had  thought  such 
an  enterprise  necessary  to  the  stability  of  his 
reign,  he  would  have  risked  even  a war  with 
England.  But  it  would  not  have  been  tried 
except  as  a last  resource  ; and  the  need  did 
not  arise.  No  one  could  have  known  better 
the  risks  of  such  an  attempt.  He  knew  Eng- 
land as  his  uncle  never  did  ; and  if  he  had 
not  his  uncle’s  energy  or  military  genius,  he 
had  far  more  knowledge  of  the  world  and  of 
the  relative  resources  and  capabilities  of  na- 
tions. He  would  not  have  done  anything 
rash  without  great  necessity  or  the  prospect 
of  very  certain  benefit  in  the  event  of  success. 

An  invasion  of  England  was  not,  therefore, 
a likely  event.  Looking  back  composedly 
now  on  what  actually  did  happen,  we  may 
safely  say  that  few  things  were  less  likely. 
But  it  was  not  by  any  means  an  impossible 
event.  The  more*  composedly  one  looks  back 
to  it  now,  the  more  he  will  be  compelled  to 
admit  that  it  was  at  least  on  the  cards.  The 
feeling  of  national  uneasiness  and  alarm  was 
not  a mere  panic.  There  were  five  projects 
with  which  public  opinion  all  over  Europe 
specially  credited  Louis  Napoleon  when  he 
began  his  imperial  reign.  One  was  a war 
with  Russia.  Another  was  a war  with  Aus- 
tria. A third  was  a war  with  Prussia.  A 
fourth  was  the  annexation  of  Belgium.  The 
fifth  was  the  invasion  of  England.  Three  of 
these  projects  were  carried  out.  The  fourth 
we  know  was  in  contemplation.  Our  com- 
bination with  France  in  the  first  project  prob- 
ably put  all  serious  thought  of  the  fifth  out  of 
the  head  of  the  French  Emperor.  He  got  far 
more  prestige  out  of  an  alliance  with  us  than 
he  could  ever  have  got  out  of  any  quarrel 
with  us  ; and  he  had  little  or  no  risk.  We 
do  not  count  for  anything  the  repeated  as- 
surances of  Louis  Napoleon  that  he  desired 


82 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


above  all  things  to  be  on  friendly  terms  with 
England.  These  assurances  were  doubtless 
sincere  at  the  moment  when  they  were  made, 
and  under  the  circumstances  of  that  moment. 
But  altered  circumstances  might  at  any  time 
have  induced  an  altered  frame  of  mind.  The 
very  same  assurances  were  made  again  and 
again  to  Russia,  to  Austria,  and  to  Prussia. 
The  pledge  that  the  Empire  was  peace  was 
addressed,  like  the  Pope’s  edict,  urbi  et  orbi. 

Therefore  we  do  not  look  upon  the  mood 
of  England  in  1852  as  one  of  idle  and  base- 
less panic.  The  same  feeling  broke  into  life 
again  in  1859,  when  the  Emperor  of  the 
French  suddenly  announced  his  determina- 
tion to  go  to  war  with  Austria.  It  was  in 
this  latter  period  indeed  that  the  Volunteer 
movement  became  a great  national  organiza- 
tion, and  that  the  Laureate  did  his  best  to 
rouse  it  into  activity  in  the  verses  of  hardly 
doubtful  merit  to  which  we  have  already  re- 
ferred. But  in  1852  the  beginning  of  an 
army  of  volunteers  was  made,  and,  what  is 
of  more  importance  to  the  immediate  business 
of  our  history,  the  Government  determined 
to  bring  in  a bill  for  the  reorganization  of  the 
national  militia. 

Our  militia  was  not  in  any  case  a body  to 
be  particularly  proud  of  at  that  time.  It 
had  fallen  into  decay,  and  almost  into  disor- 
ganization. Nothing  could  have  been  a more 
proper  work  for  any  Government  than  its 
restoration  to  efficiency  and  respectability. 
Nothing,  too,  could  have  been  more  timely 
than  a measure  to  make  it  efficient  in  view 
of  the  altered  condition  of  European  affairs 
and  the  increased  danger  of  disturbance  at 
home  and  abroad.  We  had  on  our  hands  at 
the  time,  too,  one  of  our  little  wars — a Caffre 
war,  which  was  protracted  to  a vexatious 
length,  and  which  was  not  without  serious 
military  difficulty.  It  began  in  the  December 
of  1850,  and  was  not  completely  disposed 
of  before  the  early  party  of  1853.  We  could 
not,  therefore,  afford  to  have  our  defences  in 
any  defective  condition,  and  no  labor  was 
more  fairly  incumbent  on  a Government  than 
the  task  of  making  them  adequate  to  their 
purpose.  But  it  was  an  unfortunate  charac- 
teristic of  Lord  John  Russell’s  Government 
that  it  attempted  so  much  legislation,  not  be- 
cause some  particular  scheme  commended  it- 
self to  the  mature  wisdom  of  the  Ministry, 
but  because  something  had  to  be  done  in  a 
hurry  to  satisfy  public  opinion  ; and  the 
Government  could  not  think  of  anything  bet- 
ter at  the  moment  than  the  first  scheme  that 
came  to  hand.  Lord  John  Russell  accord- 
ingly introduced  a Militia  Bill,  which  was  in 
the  highest  degree  inadequate  and  unsatisfac- 
tory. The  principal  peculiarity  of  it  was 
that  it  proposed  to  substitute  a local  militia 
for  the  regular  force  that  had  been  in  exist- 
ence. Lord  Palmerston  saw  great  objections 
to  this  alteration,  and  urged  them  with  much 
briskness  and  skill  on  the  night  when  Lord 
John  Russell  explained  his  measure.  When 
Palmerston  began  his  speech,  he  probably  in- 
tended to  be  merely  critical  as  regarded  points 
in  the  measure  which  were  susceptible  of 
amendment ; but  as  he  went  on  he  found  more 
and  more  that  he  had  the  House  with  him. 
Every  objection  he  made,  every  criticism  he 
urged,  almost  every  sentence  he  spoke  drew 
down  increasing  cheers.  Lord  Palmerston 
saw  that  the  House  was  not  only  thoroughly 
with  him  on  this  ground,  but  thoroughly 
against  the  Government  on  various  grounds. 
A few  nights  after  he  followed  up  his  first 
success  by  proposing  a resolution  to  substi- 
tute the  word  “ regular”  for  the  word  “ lo- 
cal ” in  the  bill ; thus,  in  fact,  to  reconstruct 
the  bill  on  an  entirely  different  principle  from 
that  adopted  by  its  framer.  The  effort  was 
successful.  The  Peelites  went  with  Palmer- 
ston ; the  Protectionists  followed  him  as 
well  ; and  the  result  was  that  135  votes  were 
given  for  the  amendment,  and  only  126 
against  it.  The  Government  were  defeated 
by  a majority  of  eleven.  Lord  John  Russell 
instantly  announced  that  he  could  no  longer 


continue  in  office,  as  he  did  not  possess  the 
confidence  of  the  country. 

The  announcement  took  the  House  by  sur- 
prise. Lord  Palmerston  had  not  himself  ex- 
pected any  such  result  from  his  resolution. 
There  was  no  reason  why  the  Government 
should  not  have  amended  their  bill  on  the 
basis  of  the  resolution  passed  by  the  House. 
The  country  wanted  a scheme  of  efficient  de- 
fence, and  the  Government  were  only  called 
upon  to  make  their  scheme  efficient.  But 
Lord  John  Russell  was  well  aware  that  his 
Administration  had  been  losing  its  authority 
little  by  little.  Since  the  time  when  it  had 
returned  to  power,  simply  because  no  one 
could  form  a Ministry  any  stronger  than  it- 
self, it  had  been  only  a Government  on 
sufferance.  Ministers  who  assume  office  in 
that  stopgap  way  seldom  retain  it  long  in 
England.  The  Gladstone  Government  illus- 
trated this  fact  in  1873,  when  they  consented 
to  return  to  office  because  Mr.  Disraeli  was 
not  then  in  a condition  to  come  in,  and  were 
dismissed  by  an  overwhelming  majority  at 
the  elections  in  the  following  spring.  Lord 
Palmerston  assigned  one  special  reason  for 
Lord  John  Russell’s  promptness  in  resigning 
on  the  change  in  the  Militia  Bill.  The  great 
motive  for  the  step  was,  according  to  Pal- 
merston, “ the  fear  of  being  defeated  on  the 
vote  of  censure  about  the  Cape  affairs,  which 
was  to  have  been  moved  to-day  ; as  it  is,  the 
late  Government  have  gone  out  on  a question 
which  they  have  treated  as  a motion,  merely 
asserting  that  they  had  lost  the  confidence  of 
the  House  ; whereas,  if  they  had  gone  out 
on  a defeat  upon  the  motion  about  the  Cape, 
they  would  have  carried  with  them  the  direct 
censure  of  the  House  of  Commons.”  The 
letter  from  Lord  Palmerston  to  his  brother, 
from  which  these  words  are  quoted,  begins 
with  a remarkable  sentence:  “I  have  had 
my  tit-for-tat  with  John  Russell,  and  I turned 
him  out  on  Friday  last.  ’ ’ Palmerston  did  not 
expect  any  such  result,  he  declared  ; but 
the  revenge  was  doubtless  sweet  for  all  that. 
This  was  in  February,  1852  ; and  it  was  only 
in  the  December  of  the  previous  year  that 
Lord  Palmerston  was  compelled  to  leave  the 
Foreign  Office  by  Loud  John  Russell.  The 
same  influence,  oddly  enough,  was  the  indi- 
rect cause  of  both  events.  Lord  Palmerston 
lost  his  place  because  of  his  recognition  of 
Louis  Napoleon  ; Lord  John  Russell  fell  from 
power  while  endeavoring  to  introduce  a 
measure  suggested  by  Louis  Napoleon’s  suc- 
cessful usurpation.  It  will  be  seen  in  a future 
chapter  how  the  influence  of  Louis  Napoleon 
was  once  again  fatal  to  each  statesman  in 
turn. 

The  Russell  Ministry  had  done  little  and 
initiated  less.  It  had  carried  on  Peel’s  sys- 
tem by  throwing  open  the  markets  to  foreign 
as  well  as  colonial  sugar,  and  by  the  repeal 
of  the  Navigation  Laws  enabled  merchants 
to  employ  foreign  ships  and  seamen  in  the 
conveyance  of  their  goods.  It  had  made  a 
mild  and  ineffectual  effort  at  a Reform  Bill, 
and  had  feebly  favored  attempts  to  admit 
Jews  to  Parliament.  It  sank  from  power 
with  an  unexpected  collapse  in  which  the  na- 
tion felt  small  concern. 

Lord  Palmerston  did  not  come  to  power 
again  at  that  moment.  He  might  have  gone 
in  with  Lord  Derby  if  he  had  been  so  inclined. 
But  Lord  Derby,  who,  it  maybe  said,  had  suc- 
ceeded to  that  title  on  the  death  of  his  father 
in  the  preceding  year,  still  talked  of  testing 
the  policy  of  Free  Trade  at  a general  election, 
and  of  course  Palmerston  was  not  disposed 
to  have  anything  to  do  with  such  a propo- 
sition. Nor  had  Palmerston  in  any  case 
much  inclination  to  serve  under  Derby,  of 
whose  political  intelligence  he  thought  poorly, 
and  whom  he  regarded  principally  as  what 
he  called  ‘‘a  flashy  speaker.  ” Lord  Derby 
tried  various  combinations  in  vain,  and  at 
last  had  to  experiment  with  a Cabinet  of  un- 
diluted Protectionists.  He  had  to  take 
office,  not  because  he  wanted  it,  or  because 
any  one  in  particular  wanted  him,  but  simply 


and  solely  because  there  was  no  one  else  who 
could  undertake  the  task.  He  formed  a Cab- 
inet to  carry  on  the  business  of  the  country 
for  the  moment  and  until  it  should  be  con- 
venient to  have  a general  election,  when  he 
fondly  hoped  that  by  some  inexplicable  pro- 
cess a Protectionist  reaction  would  be  brought 
about,  and  he  should  find  himself  at  the  head 
of  a strong  administration. 

The  Ministry  which  Lord  Derby  was  able 
to  form  was  not  a strong  one.  Lord  Palmer- 
ston described  it  as  containing  two  men  of 
mark,  Derby  and  Disraeli,  and  a number  of 
ciphers.  It  had  not,  except  for  these  two,  a 
single  man  of  any  political  ability,  and  had 
hardly  one  of  any  political  experience.  It 
had  an  able  lawyer  for  Lord  Chancellor, 
Lord  St.  Leonards,  but  he  was  nothing  of  a 
politician.  The  rest  of  the  members  of  the 
Government  were  respectable  country  gen- 
tlemen. One  of  them,  Mr.  Herries,  had 
been  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  in  a short- 
lived Government,  that  of  Lord  Goderich,  in 
1827  ; and  he  had  held  the  office  of  Secretary 
of  War  fora  few  months  some  time  later. 
He  was  forgotten  by  the  existing  generation 
of  politicians,  and  the  general  public  only 
knew  that  he  was  still  living  when  they 
heard  of  his  accession  to  Lord  Derby’s  Gov- 
ernment. The  Earl  of  Malmesbury,  Sir 
John  Pakington,  Mr.  Walpole,  Mr.  Henley, 
and  the  rest,  were  men  whose  antecedents 
scarcely  gave  them  warrant  for  any  higher 
claim  in  public  life  than  the  position  of  chair- 
man of  quarter  sessions  ; nor  did  their  sub- 
sequent career  in  office  contribute  much  to 
establish  a loftier  estimate  of  their  capacity. 
The  head  of  the  Government  was  remarka- 
ble for  his  dashing  blunders  as  a politician, 
quite  as  much  as  for  his  dashing  eloquence. 
His  new  lieutenant,  Mr.  Disraeli,  had  in 
former  days  christened  him,  very  happily, 
“ the  Rupert  of  Debate,”  after  that  fiery  and 
gallant  prince  whose  blunders  generally  lost 
the  battles  which  his  headlong  courage  had 
nearly  won. 

Concerning  Mr.  Disraeli  himself  it  is  not 
too  much  to  say  that  many  of  his  own  party 
were  rather  more  afraid  of  his  genius  than  of 
the  dulness  of  any  of  his  colleagues.  It  is 
not  a pleasant  task  in  the  best  of  circumstan- 
ces to  be  at  the  head  of  a tolerated  Ministry 
in  the  House  of  Commons  : a Ministry  which 
is  in  a minority  and  only  holds  its  place  be- 
cause there  is  no  one  ready  to  relieve  it  of  the 
responsibility  of  office.  Mr.  Disraeli  him- 
self, at  a much  later  date,  gave  the  House  of 
Commons  an  amusing  picture  of  the  trials 
and  humiliations  which  await  the  leader  of 
such  a forlorn  hope.  He  had  now  to  assume 
that  position  without  any  previous  experi- 
ence of  office.  Rarely  indeed  is  the  leader- 
ship of  the  House  of  Commons  undertaken 
by  any  one  who  has  not  previously  held 
office  ; and  Mr.  Disraeli  entered  upon  leader- 
ship and  office  at  the  same  moment  for  the 
first  time.  He  became  Chancellor  of  the  Ex- 
chequer and  leader  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. Among  the  many  gifts  with  which 
he  was  accredited  by  fame,  not  a single  ad- 
mirer had  hitherto  dreamed  of  including  a 
capacity  for  the  mastery  of  figures.  In  ad- 
dition to  all  the  ordinary  difficulties  of  the 
Ministry  of  a minority,  there  was,  in  this  in- 
stance, the  difficulty  arising  from  the  obscur- 
ity and  inexperience  of  nearly  all  its  mem- 
bers. Facetious  persons  dubbed  the  new  ad- 
ministration the  “Who?  Who?  Ministry.” 
The  explanation  of  this  odd  nickname  was 
found  in  a story  then  in  circulation  about  the 
Duke  of  Wellington.  The  Duke,  it  was 
said,  was  anxious  to  hear  from  Lord  Derby 
at  the  earliest  moment  all  about  the  composi- 
tion of  his  Cabinet.  He  was  overheard  ask- 
ing the  new  Prime  Minister  in  the  House  of 
Lords  the  names  of  his  intended  colleagues. 
The  Duke  was  rather  deaf,  and,  like  most 
deaf  persons,  spoke  in  very  loud  tones,  and 
of  course  had  to  be  answered  in  tones  also 
rather  elevated.  That  which  was  meant  for 
a whispered  conversation  became  audible  to 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


S3 


the  whole  House.  As  Lord  Derby  mention- 
ed each  name,  the  Duke  asked  in  wonder 
and  eagerness,  “ Who  ? Who  ?”  After  each 
new  name  came  the  same  inquiry.  The 
Duke  of  Wellington  had  clearly  never  heard 
of  most  of  the  new  Ministers  before.  The 
story  went  about  ; and  Lord  Derby’s  Admin- 
istration was  familiarly  known  as  the 
“Who?  Who?  Government.” 

Lord  Derby  entered  office  with  the  avowed 
intention  of  testing  the  Protection  question 
all  over  again.  But  he  was  no  sooner  in 
office  than  he  found  that  the  bare  suggestion 
had  immensely  increased  his  difficulties. 
The  formidable  organization  which  had 
worked  the  Free  Trade  cause  so  successfully 
seemed  likelyjo  come  into  political  life  again 
witli  all  its  old  vigor.  The  Free  Traders  be- 
gan to  stand  together  again  the  moment  Lord 
Derby  gave  his  unlucky  hint.  Every  week  that 
passed  over  his  head  did  something  to  show 
him  the  mistake  he  had  made  when  he  ham- 
pered himself  with  any  such  undertaking  as 
the  revival  of  the  Protection  question.  Some 
of  his  colleagues  had  been  unhappily  and  blun- 
deringly outspoken  in  their  addresses  to  their 
constituents  seeking  for  re-election,  and  had 
talked  as  if  the  restoration  of  Protection  it- 
self were  the  grand  object  of  Lord  Derby’s 
taking  office.'  The  new  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer  had  been  far  more  cautious.  He 
only  talked  vaguely  of  “those  remedial 
measures  which  great  productive  interests, 
suffering  from  unequal  taxation,  have  a right 
to  expect  from  a just  Government.”  In 
truth,  Mr.  Disraeli  was  well  convinced  at 
this  time  of  the  hopelessness  of  any  agitation 
for  the  restoration  of  Protection,  and  would 
have  been  only  too  glad  of  any  opportunity 
for  a complete  and  at  the  same  time  a safe 
disavowal  of  any  sympathy  with  such  a pro- 
ject. The  Government  found  their  path 
bristling  with  troubles,  created  for  them  by 
their  own  mistake  in  giving  any  hint  about 
the  demand  for  a new  trial  of  the  Free  Trade 
question.  Any  chance  they  might  otherwise 
have  had  of  making  effective  head  against 
their  very  trying  difficulties  was  completely 
cut  away  from  them. 

The  Free  Trade  League  was  reorganized. 
A conference  of  Liberal  members  of  the 
House  of  Commons  was  held  at  the  residence 
of  Lord  John  Russell  in  Chesliam  Place,  at 
which  it  was  resolved  to  extract  or  extort 
from  the  Government  a full  avowal  of  their 
policy  with  regard  to  Protection  and  Free 
Trade.  The  feat  would  have  been  rather 
difficult  of  accomplishment,  seeing  that  the 
Government  had  absolutely  no  policy  to  offer 
on  the  subject,  and  were  only  hoping  to  be 
able  to  consult  the  country  as  one  might 
consult  an  oracle.  The  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer  when  he  made  his  financial  state- 
ment accepted  the  increased  prosperity  of  the 
few  years  preceding  with  an  unction  which 
showed  that  he  at  least  had  no  particular  no- 
tion of  attempting  to  reverse  the  policy 
which  had  so  greatly  contributed  to  its  prog- 
ress. Mr.  Disraeli  pleased  the  Peelites  and 
the  Liberals  much  more  by  his  statement 
than  he  pleased  his  chief  or  many  of  his  fol- 
lowers. His  speech  indeed  was  very  clever. 
A new  financial  scheme  be  could  not  pro- 
duce, for  he  had  not  had  time  to  make  any- 
thing like  a complete  examination  of  the 
finances  of  the  country  ; but  he  played  very 
prettily  and  skilfully  with  the  facts  and  fig- 
ures, and  conveyed  to  the  listeners  the  idea 
of  a man  who  could  do  wonderful  things  in 
finance  if  he  only  had  a little  time  and  were 
in  the  humor.  Every  one  outside  the  limits 
of  the  extreme  and  unconverted  Protection- 
ists was  pleased  with  the  success  of  his 
speech.  People  were  glad  that  one  who  had 
proved  himself  so  clever  with  many  things 
should  have  shown  himself  equal  to  the  un- 
congenial and  unwonted  task  of  dealing  with 
dry  facts  and  figures.  The  House  felt  that 
he  was  placed  in  a very  trying  position,  and 
was  well  pleased  to  see  him  hold  his  own  so 
successfully  in  it. 


Mr.  Disraeli  merely  proposed  in  his  finan- 
cial statement  to  leave  things  as  he  found 
them  ; to  continue  the  income  tax  for  an- 
other year,  as  a provisional  arrangement 
pending  that  complete  re-examination  of  the 
financial  affairs  of  the  country  to  which  he 
intimated  that  he  found  himself  quite  equal 
at  the  proper  time.  No  one  could  suggest 
any  better  course  ; and  the  new  Chancellor 
came  off  on  the  whole  with  flying  colors. 
His  very  difficulties  had  been  a source  of  ad- 
vantage to  him.  He  was  not  expected 
to  produce  a financial  scheme  at  such  short 
notice  ; and  if  he  was  not  equal  to  a finan- 
cier’s task,  it  did  not  so  appear  on  this 
first  occasion  of  trial.  The  Government  on 
the  whole  did  not  do  badly  during  this  period 
of  their  probation.  They  introduced  and 
carried  a Militia  Bill,  for  which  they  obtain- 
ed the  cordial  support  of  Lord  Palmerston  ; 
and  they  gave  a Constitution  to  New  Zea- 
land ; and  then,  in  the  beginning  of  July,  the 
Parliament  was  prorogued  and  the  dissolution 
took  place.  The  elections  were  signalized 
by  very  serious  riots  in  many  parts  of  the 
country.  In  Ireland  particularly  party  pas- 
sions ran  high.  The  landlords  and  the  police 
were  on  one  side  ; the  priests  and  the  popu- 
lar party  on  the  other  ; and  in  several  places 
there  was  some  bloodshed.  It  was  not  in 
Ireland,  however,  a question  about  Free 
Trade  or  Protection.  The  great  mass  of  the 
Irish  people  knew  nothing  about  Mr.  Disra- 
eli— probably  had  never  heard  his  name,  and 
did  not  care  who  led  the  House  of  Commons. 
The  question  which  agitated  the  Irish  constit- 
uencies was  that  of  Tenant  Right,  in  the  first 
instance  ; and  the  time  had  not  yet  arrived 
when  a great  Minister  from  either  party  was 
prepared  to  listen  to  their  demands  on  this 
subject.  There  was  also  much  bitterness  of 
feeling  remaining  from  the  discussions  on  the 
Ecclesiastical  Titles  Bill.  But  it  may  be 
safely  said  that  not  one  of  the  questions  that 
stirred  up  public  feeling  in  England  had  the 
slightest  popular  interest  in  Ireland,  and  the 
question  which  the  Irish  people  considered 
essential  to  their  very  existence  did  not  enter 
for  one  moment  into  the  struggles  that  were 
going  on  all  over  England. 

The  speeches  of  ministers  in  England 
showed  the  same  lively  diversity  as  before 
on  the  subject  of  Protection.  Mr.  Disraeli 
not  only  threw  Protection  overboard,  but 
boldly  declared  that  no  one  could  have  sup- 
posed the  Ministry  had  the  slightest  intention 
of  proposing  to  bring  back  the  laws  that  were 
repealed  in  1846.  In  fact  the  time,  he  de- 
clared, had  gone  by  when  such. exploded  poli- 
tics could  even  interest  the  people  of  this 
country.  On  the  other  hand,  several  of  Mr. 
Disraeli’s  colleagues  evidently  spoke  in  the 
fulness  of  their  simple  faith  that  Lord  Der- 
by was  bent  on  setting  up  again  the  once  be- 
loved and  not  yet  forgotten  protective  sys- 
tem. But  from  the  time  of  the  elections 
nothing  more  was  heard  about  Protection  or 
about  the  possibility  of  getting  a new  trial 
for  its  principles.  The  elections  did  little  or 
nothing  for  the  Government.  The  dreams 
of  a strengthened  party  at  their  back  were 
gone.  They  gained  a little,  just  enough  to 
make  it  unlikely  that  any  one  would  move  a 
vote  of  want  of  confidence  at  the  very  outset 
of  their  reappearance  before  Parliament,  but 
not  nearly  enough  to  give  them  a chance  of 
carrying  any  measure  which  could  really  pro- 
pitiate the  Conservative  party  throughout  the 
country.  They  were  still  to  be  the  Ministry 
of  a minority  ; a Ministry  on  sufferance. 
They  were  a Ministry  on  sufferance  when 
they  appealed  to  the  country,  but  they  were 
able  to  say  then  that  when  their  cause  had 
been  heard  the  country  would  declare  for 
them.  They  now  came  back  to  be  a Minis- 
try on  sufferance,  who  had  made  the  appeal 
and  had  seen  it  rejected.  It  was  plain  to 
every  one  that  their  existence  as  a Ministry 
was  only  a question  of  days.  Speculation 
was  already  busy  as  to  tlieir  successors  ; and 
it  was  evident  that  a new  Government  could 


only  be  formed  by  some  sort  of  coalition  be- 
tween the  Whigs  and  the  Peelites. 

Among  the  noteworthy  events  of  the  gen- 
eral elections  was  the  return  of  Macaulay  to 
the  House  of  Commons.  Edinburgh  elected 
him  in  a manner  particularly  complimentary 
to  him  and  honorable  to  herself.  He  was 
elected  without  his  solicitation,  without  his 
putting  himself  forward  as  a candidate,  with- 
out his  making  any  profession  of  faith  or  do- 
ing any  of  the  things  that  the  most  indepen- 
dent candidate  was  then  expected  to  do  ; and 
in  fact,  in  spite  of  his  positive  declaration 
that  he  would  do  nothing  to  court  election. 
He  had  for  some  years  been  absent  from 
Parliament.  Some  difference  bad  arisen  be- 
tween him  and  certain  of  his  constituents  on 
the  subject  of  the  Maynooth  grant.  Com- 
plaints too  had  been  made  by  Edinburgh 
constituents  of  Macaulay’s  lack  of  attention 
to  local  interests,  and  of  the  intellectual 
scorn  which,  as  they  believed,  he  exhibited  in 
his  intercourse  with  any  of  those  who  had 
supported  him.  The  result  of  this  was  that 
at  the  general  election  of  1847  Macaulay 
was  left  third  on  the  poll  at  Edinburgh.  He 
felt  this  deeply.  He  might  have  easily  found 
some  other  constituency  ; but  liis  wounded 
pride  hastened  a resolution  he  had  for  some 
time  been  forming  to  retire  to  a life  of  pri- 
vate literary  labor.  He  therefore  remained 
out  of  Parliament.  In  1852  the  movement 
of  Edinburgh  towards  him  was  entirely  spon- 
taneous. Edinburgh  was  anxious  to  atone 
for  the  error  of  which  she  had  been  guilty. 
Macaulay  would  go  no  farther  than  to  say 
that  if  Edinburgh  spontaneously  elected  him 
he  should  deem  it  a very  high  honor  ; and 
‘ ‘ should  not  feel  myself  justified  in  refusing 
to  accept  a public  trust  offered  to  me  in  a 
manner  so  honorable  and  so  peculiar.”  But 
he  would  not  do  anything  whatever  to  court 
favor.  He  did  not  want  to  be  elected  to 
Parliament,  he  said  ; he  was  very  happy  in 
his  retirement.  Edinburgh  elected  him  on 
those  terms.  He  was  not  long  allowed  by 
his  health  to  serve  her  ; but  so  long  as  he  re- 
mained in  the  House  of  Commons  it  was  as 
member  for  Edinburgh. 

On  September  14,  1852,  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington died.  His  end  was  singularly  peace- 
ful. He  fell  quietly  asleep  about  a quarter- 
past  three  in  the  afternoon  in  Walmer  Cas- 
tle, and  he  did  not  wake  any  more.  He  was 
a very  old  man — in  his  eighty-fourth  year — 
and  his  death  had  naturally  been  looked  for 
as  an  event  certain  to  come  soon.  Yet  when 
it  did  come  thus  naturally  and  peacefully,  it 
created  a profound  public  emotion.  No 
other  man  in  our  time  ever  held  the  position 
in  England  which  the  Duke  of  Wellington 
had  occupied  for  more  than  a whole  genera- 
tion. The  place  he  had  won  for  himself  was 
absolutely  unique.  His  great  deeds  belonged 
to  a past  time.  He  was  hardly  anything  of 
a statesman  ; he  knew  little  and  cared  less 
about  what  may  be  called  statecraft ; and  as 
an  administrator  he  had  made  many  mis- 
takes. But  the  trust  which  the  nation  had 
in  him  as  a counsellor  was  absolutely  unlim- 
ited. It  never  entered  into  the  mind  of  any 
one  to  suppose  that  the  Duke  of  Wellington 
was  actuated  in  any  step  lie  took,  or  advice 
he  gave,  by  any  feeling  but  a desire  for  the 
good  of  the  State.  His  loyalty  to  the  Sover- 
eign had  something  antique  and  touching  in 
it.  There  was  a blending  of  personal  affec- 
tion with  the  devotion  of  a state  servant 
which  lent  a certain  romantic  dignity  to  the 
demeanor  and  character  of  one  who  other- 
wise had  but  little  of  the  poetical  or  the  sen- 
timental in  his  nature.  In  the  business  of 
politics  he  had  but  one  prevailing  anxiety, 
and  that  was  that  the  Queen’s  Government 
should  be  satisfactorily  carried  on.  He  gave 
up  again  and  again  his  own  most  cherished 
convictions,  most  ingrained  prejudices,  in 
order  that  he  might  not  stand  in  the  way  of 
the  Queen’s  Government  and  the  proper  car- 
rying of  it  on.  This  simple  fidelity,  some- 
times rather  whimsically  displayed,  stood 


84 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


him  often  in  stead  of  an  exalted  statesman- 
ship, and  enabled  him  to  extricate  the  Gov- 
ernment and  the  nation  from  difficulties  in 
which  a political  insight  far  more  keen  than 
his  might  have  failed  to  prove  a guide. 

It  was  for  this  true  and  tried,  this  simple 
and  unswerving  devotion  to  the  national  good 
that  the  people  of  England  admired  and  re- 
vered him.  He  had  not  what  would  be  call- 
ed a lovable  temperament,  and  yet  the  na- 
tion loved  him.  He  was  cold  and  brusque  in 
manner,  and  seemed  in  general  to  have  hard- 
ly a gleam  of  the  emotional  in  him.  This 
was  not  because  he  lacked  affections.  On 
the  contrary,  his  affections  and  his  friendships 
were  warm  and  enduring  ; and  even  in  pub- 
lic he  had  more  than  once  given  way  to  out- 
bursts of  emotion  such  as  a stranger  would 
never  have  expected  from  one  of  that  cold 
and  rigid  demeanor.  When  Sir  Robert  Peel 
died,  Wellington  spoke  of  him  in  the  House 
of  Lords  with  the  tears  which  he  did  not 
even  try  to  control  running  down  his  cheeks. 
But  in  his  ordinary  bearing  there  was  little 
of  the  manner  that  makes  a man  a popular 
idol.  He  was  not  brilliant  or  dashing,  or 
emotional  or  graceful.  He  was  dry,  cold, 
self-contained.  Yet  the  people  loved  him 
and  trusted  in  him  ; loved  him  perhaps  espe- 
cially because  they  so  trusted  in  him.  No 
face  and  figure  were  better  known  at  one 
time  to  the  population  of  London  than  those 
of  the  Duke  of  Wellington.  Of  late  his  form 
had  grown  stooped,  and  he  bent  over  his 
horse  as  he  rode  in  the  Park  or  down  White- 
hall like  one  who  could  hardly  keep  himself 
in  the  saddle.  Yet  he  mounted  his  horse  to 
the  last,  and  indeed  could  keep  in  the  saddle 
after  he  had  ceased  to  be  able  to  sit  erect  in 
an  arm-chair.  He  sometimes  rode  in  a curi- 
ous little  cab  of  his  own  devising  ; but  his 
favorite  way  of  going  about  London  was  on 
the  back  of  his  horse.  He  was  called,  par 
excellent,  “ the  Duke.”  The  London  work- 
ingman who  looked  up  as  he  went  to  or 
from  his  work  and  caught  a sight  of  the 
bowed  figure  on  the  horse,  took  off  his  hat 
and  told  some  passer-by,  “ There  goes  the 
Duke  1”  His  victories  belonged  to  the  past. 
They  were  but  traditions  even  to  middle-aged 
men  in  “ the  Duke’s”  later  years.  But  he 
was  regarded  still  as  an  embodiment  of  the 
national  heroism  and  success  ; a modern  St. 
George  in  a tightly-buttoned  frock-coat  and 
white  trowsers. 

Wellington  belonged  so  much  to  the  past 
at  the  time  of  his  death,  that  it  seems  hardly 
in  place  here  to  say  anything  about  his  char- 
acter as  a soldier.  But  it  may  be  remarked 
that  his  success  was  due  in  great  measure  to 
a sort  of  inspired  common  sense  which  rose 
to  something  like  genius.  He  had  in  the 
highest  conceivable  degree  the  art  of  winning 
victories.  In  war,  as  in  statesmanship,  he 
had  one  characteristic  which  is  said  to  have 
been  the  special  gift  of  Julius  Caesar,  and  for 
the  lack  of  which  Caesar’s  greatest  modern 
rival  in  the  art  of  conquest,  the  first  Napo- 
leon, lost  all  or  nearly  all  that  he  had  won. 
Wellington  not  only  understood  what  could 
be  done,  but  also  what  could  not  be  done. 
The  wild  schemes  of  almost  universal  rule 
which  set  Napoleon  astray  and  led  him  to  his 
destruction  would  have  appeared  to  the 
strong  common  sense  of  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington as  impossible  and  absurd  as  they 
would  have  looked  to  the  lofty  intelligence  of 
Caesar.  It  can  hardly  be  questioned  that  in 
original  genius  Napoleon  far  surpassed  the 
Duke  of  Wellington.  But  Wellington  al- 
ways knew  exactly  what  he  could  do,  and 
Napoleon  often  confounded  his  ambitions 
with  his  capacities.  Wellington  provided 
for  everything,  looked  after  everything ; 
never  trusted  to  his  star  or  to  chance  or  to 
anything  but  care  and  preparation  and  the 
proper  application  of  means  to  ends.  Under 
almost  any  conceivable  conditions,  Welling- 
ton, pitted  against  Napoleon,  was  the  man  to 
win  in  the  end.  The  very  genius  of  Napo- 
leon would  sooner  or  later  have  left  him  open  | 


to  the  unsleeping  watchfulness,  the  almost 
infallible  judgment  of  Wellington. 

He  was  as  fortunate  as  he  was  deserving. 
No  man  could  have  drunk  more  deeply  of 
the  cup  of  fame  and  fortune  than  Welling- 
ton ; and  he  was  never  for  one  moment  in- 
toxicated by  it.  After  all  his  long  wars  and 
his  splendid  victories  he  had  some  thirty- 
seven  years  of  peace  and  glory  to  enjoy.  He 
held  the  loftiest  position  in  this  country  that 
any  man  not  a sovereign  could  hold,  and  he 
ranked  far  higher  in  the  estimation  of  his 
countrymen  than  most  of  their  sovereigns 
have  done.  The  rescued  emperors  and  kings 
of  Europe  had  showered  their  honors  on  him. 
His  fame  was  as  completely  secured  during 
his  lifetime  as  if  death,  by  removing  him 
from  the  possibility  of  making  a mistake, 
had  consecrated  it.  No  new  war  under  al- 
tered conditions  tried  the  flexibility  and  the 
endurance  of  the  military  genius  which  had 
defeated  in  turn  all  Napoleon’s  great  mar- 
shals as  a prelude  to  the  defeat  of  Napoleon 
himself.  If  ever  any  mortal  may  be  said  to 
have  had  in  life  all  he  could  have  desired, 
Wellington  was  surely  that  man.  He  might 
have  found  a new  contentment  in  his  hon- 
ors, if  he  really  cared  much  about  them,  in 
the  reflection  that  he  had  done  nothing  for 
himself,  but  all  for  the  State.  He  did  not 
love  war.  He  had  no  inclination  whatever 
for  it.  When  Lord  John  Russell  visited  Na- 
poleon in  Elba,  Napoleon  asked  him  whether 
he  thought  the  Duke  of  Wellington  would  be 
able  to  live  thenceforward  without  the  ex- 
citement of  war.  It  was  probably  in  Napo- 
leon’s mind  that  the  English  soldier  would  be 
constantly  entangling  his  country  in  foreign 
complications  for  the  sake  of  gratifying  his 
love  for  the  brave  squares  of  war.  Lord 
John  Russell  endeavored  to  impress  upon  the 
great  fallen  Emperor  that  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington would  as  a matter  of  course  lapse  into 
the  place  of  a simple  citizen,  and  would  look 
with  no  manner  of  regret  to  the  stormy  days 
of  battle.  Napoleon  seems  to  have  listened 
with  a sort  of  melancholy  incredulity,  and 
only  observed  once  or  twice  that  ‘ ‘ it  was  a 
splendid  game,  war.”  To  Wellington  it 
was  no  splendid  game,  or  game  of  any  sort. 
It  was  a stem  duty  to  be  done  for  his  Sover- 
eign and  his  country,  and  to  be  got  through 
as  quickly  as  possible.  The  difference  be- 
tween the  two  men  cannot  be  better  illustrat- 
ed. It  is  impossible  to  compare  two  such 
men.  There  is  hardly  any  common  basis  of 
comparison.  To  say  which  is  the  greater, 
one  must  first  make  up  his  mind  as  to 
whether  his  standard  of  greatness  is  genius 
or  duty.  Napoleon  has  made  a far  deeper 
impression  on  history.  If  that  be  superior 
greatness,  it  would  be  scarcely  possible  for 
any  national  partiality  to  claim  an  equal 
place  for  Wellington.  But  Englishmen  may 
be  content  with  the  reflection  that  their  hero 
saved  his  country,  and  that  Napoleon  nearly 
rained  his.  We  write  this  without  the 
slightest  inclination  to  sanction  what  may  be 
called  the  British  Philistine  view  of  the  char- 
acter of  Napoleon.  Up  to  a certain  period 
of  his  career  it  seems  to  us  deserving  of  al- 
most unmingled  admiration  ; just  as  his 
country,  in  her  earlier  disputes  with  the  other 
European  Powers,  seems  to  have  been  almost 
entirely  in  the  right.  But  his  success  and 
his  glory  were  too  strong  for  Napoleon.  He 
fell  for  the  very  want  of  that  simple,  stead- 
fast devotion  to  duty  which  inspired  Wel- 
lington always,  and  which  made  him  seem 
dignified  and  great,  even  in  statesmanship  for 
which  he  was  unfitted,  and  even  when  in 
statesmanship  he  was  acting  in  a manner 
that  would  have  made  another  man  seem  ri- 
diculous rather  than  respectable.  Wellington 
more  nearly  resembled  Washington  than  Na- 
poleon. lie  was  a much  greater  soldier  than 
Washington  ; but  he  was  not  on  the  whole 
so  great  a man. 

It  is  fairly  to  be  said  for  Wellington  that 
the  proportions  of  his  personal  greatness  seem 
I to  grow  rather  than  to  dwindle  as  he  and  his 


events  are  removed  from  us  by  time.  The 
battle  of  Waterloo  does  not  indeed  stand,  as 
one  of  its  historians  has  described  it,  among 
the  decisive  battles  of  the  world.  It  was 
fought  to  keep  the  Bonapartes  off  the  throne 
of  France  ; and  in  twenty-five  years  after 
Waterloo,  while  the  victor  of  Waterloo  was 
yet  living,  another  Bonaparte  was  preparing 
to  mount  that  throne.  It  was  the  climax  of 
a national  policy  which,  however  justifiable 
and  inevitable  it  may  have  become  in  the 
end,  would  hardly  now  be  justified  as  to  its 
origin  by  one  intelligent  Englishman  out  of 
twenty.  The  present  age  is  not,  therefore, 
likely  to  become  rhapsodical  over  Welling- 
ton, as  our  forefathers  might  have  been, 
merely  because  he  defeated  the  French  and 
crushed  Napoleon.  Yet  it  is  impossible  for 
the  coolest  mind  to  study  the  career  of  Wel- 
lington without  feeling  a constant  glow  of 
admiration  for  that  singular  course  of  simple 
antique  devotion  to  duty.  His  was  truly  the 
spirit  in  which  a great  nation  must  desire 
to  be  served. 

The  nation  was  not  ungrateful.  It  heaped 
honors  on  Wellington  ; it  would  have  heaped 
more  on  him  if  it  knew  how.  It  gave  him 
its  almost  unqualified  admiration.^  On  his 
death  it  tried  to  give  him  such  a public  fu- 
neral as  hero  never  had.  The  pageant  was  in- 
deed a splendid  and  a gorgeous  exhibition. 
It  was  not  perhaps  very  well  suited  to  the 
temperament  and  habits  of  the  cold  and  sim- 
ple hero  to  whose  honor  it  was  got  up. 
Nor,  perhaps,  are  gorgeous  pageants  exactly 
the  sort  of  performance  in  which  as  a nation 
England  particularly  excels.  But  in  the 
vast,  silent,  respectful  crowd  that  thronged 
the  London  streets — a crowd  such  as  no  other 
city  in  the  world  could  show — there  was  bet- 
ter evidence  than  pageantry  or  ceremonial 
could  supply  of  the  esteem  in  which  the  liv- 
ing generation  held  the  hero  of  the  last.  The 
name  of  Wellington  had  long  ceased  to  rep- 
resent any  hostility  of  nation  to  nation. 
The  crowds  who  filled  the  streets  of  London 
that  day  had  no  thought  of  the  kind  of  senti- 
ment which  used  to  fill  the  breasts  of  their 
fathers  when  France  and  Napoleon  were 
named.  They  honored  Wellington  only  as 
one  who  had  always  served  his  country  ; as 
the  soldier  of  England  and  not  as  the  invader 
of  France,  or  even  as  the  conqueror  of  Na- 
poleon. The  homage  to  his  memory  was  as 
pure  of  selfish  passion  as  his  own  career. 

The  new  Parliament  was  called  together  in 
November.  It  brought  into  public  life  in 
England  a man  who  afterwards  made  some 
mark  in  our  politics,  and  whose  intellect  and 
debating  power  seemed  at  one  time  to  prom- 
ise him  a position  inferior  to  that  of  hardly 
any  one  in  the  House  of  Commons.  This 
was  Mr.  Robert  Lowe,  who  had  returned 
from  one  of  the  Australian  colonies  to  enter 
political  life  in  his  native  country.  Mr. 
Lowe  was  a scholar  of  a highly  cultured  or- 
der ; and,  despite  some  serious  defects  of  de- 
livery, he  proved  to  be  a debater  of  the  very 
highest  class,  especially  gifted  with  the  weap- 
ons of  sarcasm,  scorn,  and  invective.  He 
was  a Liberal  in  the  intellectual  sense  ; he 
was  opposed  to  all  restraints  on  education 
and  on  the  progress  of  a career  ; but  he  had 
a detestation  for  democratic  doctrines  which 
almost  amounted  to  a mania.  He  despised 
with  the  whole  force  of  a temperament  very 
favorable  to  intellectual  scorn  alike  the  rural 
Tory  and  the  torvn  Radical.  His  opinions 
were  generally  rather  negative  than  positive. 
He  did  not  seem  to  have  any  very  posit  ive  opin- 
ions of  any  kind  where  politics  were  concern- 
ed. He  was  governed  by  a detestation  of  ab- 
stractions and  sentimentalities,  and  “ views” 
of  all  sorts.  An  intellectual  Don  Juan  of  the 
political  world,  he  believed  with  Moliere’s 
hero  that  two  and  two  make  four,  and  that 
four  and  four  make  eight,  and  he  was  impa- 
tient of  any  theory  which  would  commend 
itself  to  the  mind  on  less  rigorous  evidence. 
If  contempt  for  the  intellectual  weaknesses 
of  an  opposing  party  or  doctrine  could  have 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


85 


made  a great  politician,  Mr.  Lowe  would 
have  won  that  name.  In  politics,  however, 
criticism  is  not  enough.  One  must  he  able 
to  originate,  to  mould  the  will  of  others,  to 
compromise,  to  lead  while  seeming  to  follow, 
often  to  follow  while  seeming  to  lead.  Of 
gifts  like  these  Mr.  Lowe  had  no  share.  He 
never  became  more  than  a great  Parliament- 
ary critic  of  the  acrid  and  vitriolic  style. 

Almost  immediately  on  the  assembling  of 
the  new  Parliament,  Mr.  Yilliers  brought 
forward  a resolution  not  merely  pledging  the 
House  of  Commons  to  a Free  Trade  policy, 
but  pouring  out  a sort  of  censure  on  all  who 
had  hitherto  failed  to  recognize  its  worth. 
This  step  was  thought  necessary,  and  was  in- 
deed made  necessary  by  the  errors  of  which 
Lord  Derby  had  been  guilty,  and  the  prepos- 
terous vaporings  of  some  of  his  less  respon- 
sible followers.  If  the  resolution  had  been 
passed,  the  Government  must  have  resigned. 
They  were  willing  enough  now  to  agree  to 
any  resolution  declaring  that  Free  Trade  was 
the  established  policy  of  the  country  ; but 
they  could  not  accept  the  triumphant  eulogi- 
um  which  the  resolution  proposed  to  offer  to 
the  commercial  policy  of  the  years  when 
they  were  the  uncompromising  enemies  of 
that  very  policy.  They  could  submit  to  the 
punishment  imposed  on  them  ; but  they  did 
not  like  this  public  kissing  of  the  rod  and 
doing  penance.  Lord  Palmerston,  who  even 
up  to  that  time  regarded  his  ultimate  accept- 
ance of  office  under  Lord  Derby  as  a not  im- 
possible event  if  once  the  Derby  party  could 
shake  themselves  quite  free  of  Protection, 
devised  an  amendment  which  afforded  them 
the  means  of  a more  or  less  honorable  re- 
treat. This  resolution  pledged  the  House  to 
the  “ policy  of  unrestricted  competition  firm- 
ly maintained  and  prudently  extended  but 
recorded  no  panegyric  of  the'  legislation  of 
1846,  and  consequent  condemnation  of  those 
who  opposed  that  legislation.  The  amend- 
ment was  accepted  by  all  but  the  small  band 
of  irreconcilable  Protectionists  : 468  voted 
for  it  ; only  53  against  it ; and  the  moan  of 
Protection  was  made.  All  that  long  chapter 
of  English  legislation  was  closed.  Various 
commercial  and  other  “ interests”  did  indeed 
afterwards  demur  to  the  application  of  the 
principle  of  unrestricted  competition  to  their 
peculiar  concerns.  But  they  did  not  plead 
for  Protection.  They  only  contended  that 
the  Protection  they  sought  for  was  not,  in 
fact,  Protection  at  all,  but  Free  Trade  under 
peculiar  circumstances.  The  straightfor- 
ward doctrine  of  Protection  perished  of  the 
debate  of  November,  1852. 

Still  the  Government  only  existed  on  suf- 
ferance. Their  tenure  of  office  was  some- 
what rudely  compared  to  that  of  a bailiff  put 
into  possession  of  certain  premises,  who  is 
liable  to  be  sent  away  at  any  moment  when 
the  two  parties  concerned  in  the  litigation 
choose  to  come  to  terms.  There  was  a gen- 
eral expectation  that  the  moment  Mr.  Dis- 
raeli came  to  set  out  a genuine  financial 
scheme  the  fate  of  the  Government  would  be 
decided.  So  the  event  proved.  Mr.  Dis- 
raeli made  a financial  statement  which  show- 
ed remarkable  capacity  for  dealing  with  fig- 
ures. It  was  subjected  to  a far  more  serious 
test  than  his  first  budget,  for  that  was  nec- 
essarily a mere  stopgap  or  makeshift.  This 
was  a real  budget,  altering  and  reconstruct- 
ing the  financial  system  and  the  taxation  of 
the  country.  The  skill  with  which  the 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  explained  his 
measures  and  tossed  his  figures  about  con- 
vinced many  even  of  his  strongest  opponents 
that  he  had  the  capacity  to  make  a good  bud- 
get if  he  only  were  allowed  to  do  so  by  the 
conditions  of  his  party’s  existence.  But  his 
Cabinet  had  come  into  office  under  special 
obligations  to  the  country  party  and  the  farm- 
ers. They  could  not  avoid  making  some 
experiment  in  the  way  of  special  legislation 
for  the  farmers.  They  had  at  the  very  least 
to  put  on  an  appearance  of  doing  something 
for  them.  The  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer 


might  be  supposed  to  be  in  the  position  of 
the  soldier  in  Hogarth’s  ‘‘March  to  Finch- 
ley,” between  the  rival  claimants  on  his  atten- 
tion. He  has  promised  and  vowed  to  the 
one  ; but  he  knows  that  the  slightest  mark 
of  civility  he  offers  to  her  will  be  fiercely  re- 
sented by  the  other.  When  Mr.  Disraeli  un- 
dertook to  favor  the  country  interest  and  the 
farmers,  he  must  have  known  only  too  well 
that  he  was  setting  all  the  Free  Traders 
and  Peelites  against  him  ; and  he  knew 
at  the  same  time  that  if  he  neglected  the 
country  party  he  was  cutting  the  ground 
from  beneath  his  feet.  The  principle  of 
his  budget  was  the  reduction  of  the  malt 
duties  and  the  increase  of  the  inhabited 
house  duty.  Some  manipulations  of  the 
income  tax  were  to  be  introduced,  chiefly 
with  a view  to  lighten  the  impost  on  farmers’ 
profits  ; and  there  was  to  be  a modest  reduc- 
tion of  the  tea  duty.  The  two  points  that 
stood  out  clear  and  prominent  before  the 
House  of  Commons  were  the  reduction  of 
the  malt  duty  and  the  increase  of  the  duty 
on  inhabited  houses.  The  reduction  of  the 
malt  tax,  as  Mr.  Lowe  said  in  his  pungent 
criticism,  was  the  keystone  of  the  budget. 
That  reduction  ci’eated  a deficit,  which  the 
inhabited  house  duty  had  to  be  doubled  in 
order  to  supply.  The  scheme  was  a com- 
plete failure.  The  farmers  did  not  care 
much  about  the  concession  which  had  been 
made  in  their  favor  ; those  who  had  to  pay 
for  it  in  doubled  taxation  were  bitterly  indig- 
nant. Mr.  Disraeli  had  exasperated  the  one 
claimant,  and  not  greatly  pleased  the  other. 
The  Government  soon  saw  how  things  were 
likely  to  go.  The  Chancellor  of  the  Excheq- 
uer began  to  see  that  he  had  only  a desper- 
ate fight  to  make.  The  Whigs,  the  Free 
Traders,  the  Peelites,  and  such"  independent 
members  or  unattached  members  as  Mr. 
Lowe  and  Mr.  Bernal  Osborne  all  fell  on 
him.  It  became  a combat  d outrance.  It 
well  suited  Mr.  Disraeli’s  peculiar  tempera- 
ment. During  the  whole  of  his  Parliament- 
ary career  he  has  never  fought  so  well  as 
when  he  has  been  free  to  indulge  to  the  full 
the  courage  of  despair. 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

MR.  GLADSTONE. 

The  debate  was  one  of  the  finest  of  its 
kind  ever  heard  in  Parliament  during  our 
time.  The  excitement  on  both  sides  was  in- 
tense. The  rivalry  was  hot  and  eager.  Mr. 
Disraeli  was  animated  by  all  the  power  of 
desperation,  and  was  evidently  in  a mood 
neither  to  give  nor  to  take  quarter.  He  as- 
sailed Sir  Charles  Wood,  the  late  Chancellor 
of  the  Exchequer,  with  a vehemence  and 
even  a virulence  which  certainly  added  much 
to  the  piquancy  and  interest  of  the  discussion 
so  far  as  listeners  were  concerned,  but 
which  more  than  once  went  to  very  verge  of 
the  limits  of  Parliamentary  decorum.  It 
was  in  the  course  of  this  speech  that  Disraeli, 
leaning  across  the  table  and  directing  his 
words  full  at  Sir  Charles  Wood,  declared,  “ I 
care  not  to  be  the  right  honorable  gentle- 
man’s critic,  but  if  he  has  learned  his  busi- 
ness he  has  yet  to  learu  that  petulance  is  not 
sarcasm,  and  that  insolence  is  not  invective.” 
The  House  had  not  heard  the  concluding 
word  of  Disraeli’s  bitter  and  impassioned 
speech,  when  at  two  o’clock  in  the  morning 
Mr.  Gladstone  leaped  to  his  feet  to  answer 
him.  Then  began  that  long  Parliamentary 
duel  which  only  knew  a truce  when  at  the 
close  of  the  session  of  1876  Mr.  Disraeli 
crossed  the  threshold  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons for  the  last  time,  thenceforward  to  take 
his  place  among  the  peers  as  Lord  Beacons- 
field.  During  all  the  intervening  four-and- 
twenty  years  these  two  men  were  rivals  in 
power  and  in  Parliamentary  debate  as  much 
as  ever  Pitt  and  Fox  had  been.  Their  oppo- 
sition, like  that  of  Pitt  and  Fox,  was  one  of 
temperament  and  character  as  well  as  of 
genius,  position,  and  political  opinion.  The 
rivalry  of  this  first  heated  and  eventful  night 


was  a splendid  display.  Those  who  had 
thought  it  impossible  that  any  impression 
could  be  made  upon  the  House  after  the 
speech  of  Mr.  Disraeli,  had  to  acknowledge 
that  a yet  greater  impression  was  produced 
by  the  unprepared  reply  of  Mr.  Gladstone. 
The  House  divided  about  four  o’clock  in  the 
morning,  and  the  Government  were  left  in  a 
minority  of  nineteen.  Mr.  Disraeli  took  the 
defeat  with  his  characteristic  composure. 
The  morning  was  cold  and  wet.  “ It  will 
be  an  unpleasant  day  for  going  to  Osborne,” 
he  quietly  remarked  to  a friend  as  they  went 
down  Westminster  Hall  together  and  looked 
out  into  the  dreary  streets.  That  day,  at  Os- 
borne, the  resignation  of  the  Ministry  was 
formally  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  Queen. 

In  a few  days  after,  the  Coalition  Ministry 
was  formed.  Lord  Aberdeen  was  Prime  Min- 
ister ; Lord  John  Russell  took  the  Foreign 
Office  ; Lord  Palmerston  became  Home  Sec- 
retary ; Mr.  Gladstone  was  Chancellor  of 
the  Exchequer.  The  public  were  a good 
deal  surprised  that  Lord  Palmerston  had  tak- 
en such  a place  as  that  of  Home  Secretary. 
His  name  had  been  identified  with  the  foreign 
policy  of  England,  and  it  was  not  supposed 
that  he  felt  the  slightest  interest,  in  the  ordi- 
nary business  of  the  Home  Department. 
Palmerston  himself  explained  in  a letter  to 
his  brother  that  the  Home  Office  was  his 
own  choice.  He  was  not  anxious  to  join  the 
Ministry  at  all  ; and  if  he  had  to  make  one, 
he  preferred  that  he  should  hold  some  office 
in  which  he  had  personally  no  traditions. 
“I  had  long  settled  in  my  own  mind,”  he 
said,  “ that  I would  not  go  back  to  the 
Foreign  Office,  and  that  if  I ever  took  any 
office  it  should  be  the  Home.  It  does  not  do 
for  a man  to  pass  his  whole  life  in  one  de- 
partment, and  the  Home  Office  deals  with 
the  concerns  of  the  country  internally  and 
brings  one  in  contact  with  one’s  fellow-coun- 
trymen ; besides  which  it  gives  one  more  in- 
fluence in  regard  to  the  militia  and  the  de- 
fences of  the  country.”  Lord  Palmerston  in 
fact  announces  that  he  has  undertaken  the 
business  of  the  Home  Office  for  the  same 
reason  as  that  given  by  Fritz,  in  the  “ Grande 
Duchesse,”  for  becoming  a school-master. 
“ Can  you  teach  ?”  asks  the  Grande  Duchesse. 
‘‘No,”  is  the  answer;  “ c’esi  pour  appren- 
dre “I  go  to  learn.”  The  reader  may 
well  suspect,  however,  that  it  was  not  only 
with  a view  of  learning  the  business  of  the 
internal  administration  and  becoming  ac- 
quainted with  his  fellow  - countrymen  that 
Palmerston  preferred  the  Home  Office.  He 
would  not  consent  to  be  Foreign  Secretary 
on  any  terms  but  his  own,  and  these  terms 
were  then  out  of  the  question. 

The  principal  interest  felt  in  the  new  Gov- 
ernment was  not,  however,  centred  in  Lord 
Palmerston.  The  new  Chancellor  of  the  Ex- 
chequer was  the  man  upon  whom  the  eyes 
of  curiosity  and  interest  were  chiefly  turned. 
Mr.  Gladstone  was  still  a young  man  in  the 
Parliamentary  sense  at  least.  He  was  but 
forty-three.  His  career  had  been  in  every 
way  remarkable.  He  had  entered  public  life 
at  a very  early  age.  He  had  been,  to  quote 
the  words  of  Macaulay,  a distinguished  de- 
bater in  the  House  of  Commons  ever  since 
he  was  one  - and  - twenty.  Criticising  his 
book,  “ The  State  in  its  Relations  with  the 
Church,”  which  was  published  in  1838, 
Macaulay  speaks  of  Gladstone  as  ‘‘a  young 
man  of  unblemished  character  and  of  dis- 
tinguished Parliamentary  talents,  the  rising 
hope  of  those  stern  and  unbending  Tories 
who  follow  reluctantly  and  mutinously  a 
leader  whose  experience  is  indispensable  to 
them,  but  whose  cautious  temper  and  mod- 
erate opinions  they  abhor.”  The  time  was 
not  so  far  away  when  the  stern  and  unbend- 
ing Tories  would  regard  Gladstone  as  the 
greatest  hope  of  their  most  bitter  enemies. 
Lord  Macaulay  goes  on  to  overwhelm  the 
views  expressed  by  Mr.  Gladstone  as  to  the 
relations  between  State  and  Church,  with  a 
weight  of  argument  and  gorgeousness  of  illus- 


86 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


tration  that  now  seem  to  have  been  hardly 
called  for.  One  of  the  doctrines  of  the  young 
statesman  which  Macaulay  confutes  with  es- 
pecial warmth  is  the  principle  which,  as  he 
states  it,  “ would  give  the  Irish  a Protestant 
Church  whether  they  like  it  or  not.”  The 
author  of  the  book  which  contained  this 
doctrine  was  the  author  of  the  disestablish- 
ment of  the  State  Church  in  Ireland. 

Mr.  Gladstone  was  by  birth  a Lancashire 
man.  It  is  not  unworthy  of  notice  that  Lan- 
cashire gave  to  the  Parliaments  of  recent 
times  their  three  greatest  orators  : Mr.  Glad- 
stone, Mr.  Bright,  and  the  late  Lord  Derby. 
Mr.  Gladstone  was  born  in  Liverpool,  and 
was  the  son  of  Sir  John  Gladstone,  a Scotch- 
man, who  founded  a great  house  in  the  sea- 
port of  the  Mersey.  He  entered  Parliament 
when  very  young  as  a protege  of  the  Newcastle 
family,  and  he  soon  faithfully  attached  him- 
self to  Sir  Robert  Peel.  His  knowledge  of 
finance,  his  thorough  appreciation  of  the  va- 
rious needs  of  a nation’s  commerce  and  busi- 
ness, his  middle-class  origin,  all  brought  him 
into  natural  affinity  with  his  great  leader. 
He  became  a Free  Trader  with  Peel.  He 
was  not  in  the  House  of  Commons,  oddly 
enough,  during  the  session  when  the  Free 
Trade  battle  was  fought  and  won.  It  has 
already  been  explained  in  this  history  that  as 
he  had  changed  his  opinions  with  his  leader 
he  felt  a reluctance  to  ask  the  support  of  the 
Newcastle  family  for  the  borough  which  by 
virtue  of  their  influence  he  had  previously 
represented.  But  except  for  that  short  inter- 
val his  whole  career  may  be  pronounced  one 
long  Parliamentary  success.  He  was  from 
the  very  first  recognized  as  a brilliant  de- 
bater, and  as  one  who  promised  to  be  an  ora- 
tor ; but  it  was  not  until  after  the  death  of 
Sir  Robert  Peel  that  he  proved  himself  the 
master  of  Parliamentary  eloquence  we  all 
now  know  him  to  be.  It  was  he  who  pro- 
nounced what  may  be  called  the  funeral  ora- 
tion upon  Peel  in  the  House  of  Commons  ; 
but  the  speech,  although  undoubtedly  in- 
spired by  the  truest  and  the  deepest  feelings, 
does  not  seem  by  any  means  equal  to  some 
of  his  more  recent  efforts.  There  is  an  ap- 
pearance of  elaboration  about  it  which  goes 
far  to  mar  its  effect.  Perhaps  the  first  really 
great  speech  made  by  Gladstone  was  the  re- 
ply to  Disraeli  on  the  memorable  December 
morning  which  we  have  just  described. 
That  speech  put  him  in  the  very  foremost 
rank  of  English  orators.  Then  perhaps  he 
first  showed  to  the  full  the  one  great  quality 
in  which  as  a Parliamentary  orator  he  has 
never  had  a rival  in  our  time  : the  readiness 
which  seems  to  require  no  preparation,  but 
can  marshal  all  its  arguments  as  if  by  instinct 
at  a given  moment,  and  the  fluency  which 
can  pour  out  the  most  eloquent  language  as 
freely  as  though  it  were  but  the  breath  of  the 
nostrils.  When,  shortly  after  the  formation 
of  the  Coalition  Ministry,  Mr.  Gladstone  de- 
livered his  first  budget,  it  was  regarded  as  a 
positive  curiosity  of  financial  exposition.  It 
was  a performance  that  belonged  to  the  de- 
partment of  the  fine  arts.  The  speech  occu- 
pied several  hours,  and  assuredly  no  listener 
wished  it  the  shorter  by  a single  sentence. 
Pitt,  we  read,  had  the  same  art  of  making  a 
budget  speech  a fascinating  discourse  ; but 
in  our  time  no  minister  has  had  this  gift  ex- 
cept Mr.  Gladstone.  Each  time  that  he  es- 
sayed the  same  task  subsequently  he  accom- 
plished just  the  same  success.  Mr.  Glad- 
stone’s first  oratorical  qualification  was  his 
exquisite  voice.  Such  a voice  would  make 
commonplace  seem  interesting  and  lend  some- 
thing of  fascination  to  dulness  itself.  It  was 
singularly  pure,  clear,  resonant,  and  sweet. 
The  orator  never  seemed  to  use  the  slightest 
effort  or  strain  in  filling  any  hall  and  reach- 
ing the  ear  of  the  farthest  among  the  audi- 
ence. It  was  not  a loud  voice  or  of  great 
volume  ; but  strong,  vibrating,  and  silvery. 
The  words  were  always  aided  by  energetic 
action  and  by  the  deep'  gleaming  eyes  of  the 
orator.  Somebody  once  said  that  Gladstone 


was  the  only  man  in  the  House  who  could 
talk  in  italics.  The  saying  was  odd,  but  was 
nevertheless  appropriate  and  expressive. 
Gladstone  could  by  the  slightest  modulation 
of  his  voice  give  all  the  emphasis  of  italics, 
of  small  print,  or  large  print,  or  any  other 
effect  he  might  desire,  to  his  spoken  words. 
It  is  not  to  be  denied  that  his  wonderful  gift 
of  words  sometimes  led  him  astray.  It  was 
often  such  a fluency  as  that  of  a torrent  on 
which  the  orator  was  carried  away.  Glad- 
stone had  to  pay  for  his  fluency  by  being  too 
fluent.  He  could  seldom  resist  the  tempta- 
tion to  shower  too  many  words  on  his  sub- 
ject and  his  hearers.  Sometimes  he  involved 
his  sentence  in  a parenthesis  within  parenthe- 
sis until  the  ordinary  listener  began  to  think 
extrication  an  impossibility  ; but  the  orator 
never  failed  to  unravel  all  the  entanglements 
and  to  bring  the  passage  out  to  a clear  and 
legitimate  conclusion.  There  was  never  any 
halt  or  incoherency,  nor  did  the  joints  of  the 
sentence  fail  to  fit  together  in  the  right  way. 
Harley  once  described  a famous  speech  as 
“ a circumgyration  of  incoherent  words.” 
This  description  certainly  could  not  be  ap- 
plied even  to  Mr.  Gladstone’s  most  involved 
passages  ; but  if  some  of  those  were  described 
as  a circumgyration  of  coherent  words,  the 
phrase  might  be  considered  germane  to  the 
matter.  His  style  was  commonly  too  redun- 
dant. It  seemed  as  if  it  belonged  to  a cer- 
tain school  of  exuberant  Italian  rhetoric. 
Yet  it  was  hardly  to  be  called  florid.  Glad- 
stone indulged  in  few  flowers  of  rhetoric,  and 
his  great  gift  was  not  imagination.  His  fault 
was  simply  the  habitual  use  of  too  many 
words.  This  defect  was  indeed  a character- 
istic of  the  Peelite  school  of  eloquence.  Mr. 
Gladstone  retained  some  of  the  defects  of  the 
school  in  which  he  had  been  trained,  even 
after  he  had  come  to  surpass  its  greatest  mas- 
ter. 

Often,  however,  this  superb,  exuberant 
rush  of  words  added  indescribable  strength 
to  the  eloquence  of  the  speaker.  In  passages 
of  indignant  remonstrance  or  denunciation, 
when  word  followed  word,  and  stroke  came 
down  upon  stroke,  with  a wealth  of  resource 
that  seemed  inexhaustible,  the  very  fluency 
and  variety  of  the  speaker  overwhelmed  his 
audience.  Interruption  only  gave  him  a new 
stimulus,  and  appeared  to  supply  him  with 
fresh  resources  of  argument  and  illustration. 
His  retorts  leaped  to  his  lips.  His  eye 
caught  sometimes  even  the  mere  gesture  that 
indicated  dissent  or  question  ; and  perhaps 
some  unlucky  opponent  who  was  only  think- 
ing of  what  might  be  said  in  opposition  to 
the  great  orator  found  himself  suddenly 
dragged  into  the  conflict  and  overwhelmed 
with  a torrent  of  remonstrance,  argument, 
and  scornful  words.  Gladstone  had  not 
much  humor  of  the  playful  kind,  but  he  had 
a certain  force  of  sarcastic  and  scornful 
rhetoric.  He  was  always  terribly  in  earnest. 
Whether  the  subject  were  great  or  small,  he 
threw  his  whole  soul  into  it.  Once,  in  ad- 
dressing a schoolboy  gathering,  he  told  his 
young  listeners  that  if  a boy  ran  he  ought  al- 
ways to  run  as  fast  as  he  could  ; if  he  jumped, 
he  ought  always  to  jump  as  far  as  he  could. 
He  illustrated  his  maxim  in  his  own  career. 
He  had  no  idea  apparently  of  running  or 
jumping  in  such  measure  as  happened  to 
please  the  fancy  of  the  moment.  He  always 
exercised  his  splendid  powers  to  the  utter- 
most strain. 

A distinguished  critic  once  pronounced 
Mr.  Gladstone  to  be  the  greatest  Parlia- 
mentary orator  of  our  time,  on  the  ground 
that  he  had  made  by  far  the  greatest  number 
of  fine  speeches,  while  admitting  that  two  or 
three  speeches  had  been  made  by  other  men 
of  the  day  which  might  rank  higher  than  any 
of  his.  This  is,  however,  a principle  of  crit- 
icism which  posterity  never  sanctions.  The 
greatest  speech,  the  greatest  poem,  give  the 
author  the  highest  place,  though  the  effort 
were  but  single.  Shakespeare  would  rank 
beyond  Massinger  just  as  he  does  now  had 


he  written  only  “ The  Tempest.”  We  can- 
not say  how  many  novels,  each  as  good  as 
“ Gil  Bias,”  would  make  Le  Sage  the  equal 
of  Cervantes.  On  this  point  fame  is  inexor- 
able. We  are  not,  therefore,  inclined  to  call 
Mr.  Gladstone  the  greatest  English  orator  of 
our  time  when  we  remember  some  of  the  fin- 
est speeches  of  Mr.  Bright ; but  did  we  re- 
gard Parliamentary  speaking  as  a mere  in- 
strument of  Parliamentary  business  and  de- 
bate, then  unquestionably  Mr.  Gladstone  is  not 
only  the  greatest  but  by  far  the  greatest  Eng- 
lish orator  of  our  time  ; for  lie  had  a richer 
combination  of  gifts  than  any  other  man  we 
can  remember,  and  he  could  use  them  often- 
est  with  effect.  He  was  like  a racer  which 
cannot  indeed  always  go  faster  than  every 
rival,  but  can  win  more  races  in  the  year  than 
any  other  horse.  Mr.  Gladstone  could  get 
up  at  any  moment,  and  no  matter  how  many 
times  a night,  in  the  House  of  Commons,  and 
be  argumentative  or  indignant,  pour  out  a 
stream  of  impassioned  eloquence  or  a shower 
of  figures,  just  as  the  exigency  of  the  debate 
and  the  moment  required.  He  was  not,  of 
course,  always  equal  ; but  he  was  always 
eloquent  and  effective.  He  seemed  as  if  he 
could  not  be  anything  but  eloquent.  Per- 
haps, judged  in  this  way,  he  never  had  an 
equal  in  the  English  Parliament.  Neither 
Pitt  nor  Fox  ever  made  so  many  speeches 
combining  so  many  great  qualities.  Chat- 
ham was  a great  actor  rather  than  a great 
orator.  Burke  was  the  greatest  political  es- 
sayist who  ever  addressed  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. Canning  did  not  often  rise  above  the 
level  of  burnished  rhetorical  commonplace. 
Macaulay,  who  during  his  time  drew  the 
most  crowded  houses  of  any  speaker,  not 
even  excepting  Peel,  was  not  an  orator  in 
the  true  sense.  Probably  no  one,  past  or 
present,  had  in  combination  so  many  gifts  of 
voice,  manner,  fluency  and  argument,  style, 
reason  and  passion,  as  Mr.  Gladstone. 

The  House  of  Commons  was  his  ground. 
There  he  was  himself  ; there  he  was  always 
seen  to  the  best  advantage.  As  a rule  he  was 
not  so  successful  on  the  platform.  His  turn 
of  mind  did  not  fit  him  well  for  the  work  of 
addressing  great  public  meetings.  He  loved 
to  look  too  carefully  at  every  side  of  a ques- 
tion, and  did  not  always  go  so  quickly  to  the 
heart  of  it  as  would  suit  great  popular  audi- 
ences. The  principal  defect  of  his  mind  was 
probably  a lack  of  simplicity,  a tendency  to 
over  - refining  and  super  - subtle  argument 
Not  perhaps  unnaturally,  however,  when  he 
did,  during  some  of  the  later  passages  of  his 
career,  lay  himself  out  for  the  work  of  ad- 
dressing popular  audiences,  he  threw  away  all 
discrimination,  and  gave  loose  to  the  full 
force  with  which,  under  the  excitement  of 
great  pressure,  he  was  wont  to  rush  at  a 
principle.  There  seemed  a certain  lack  of 
balance  in  his  mind  ; a want  of  the  exact 
poise  of  all  his  faculties.  Either  he  must  re- 
fine too  much,  or  he  did  not  refine  at  all. 
Thus  he  became  accused,  and  w’ith  some 
reason,  of  over-refining  and  all  but  quibbling 
in  some  of  his  Parliamentary  arguments  ; of 
looking  at  all  sides  of  a question  so  carefully 
that  it  was  too  long  in  doubt  whether  he  was 
ever  going  to  form  any  opinion  of  his  own  ; 
and  he  was  sometimes  accused  with  equal 
justice  of  pleading  one  side  of  a political 
cause  before  great  meetings  of  his  country- 
men with  all  the  passionate  blindness  of  a 
partisan.  The  accusations  might  seem  self- 
contradictory, if  we  did  not  remember  that 
they  will  apply,  and  with  great  force  and  jus- 
tice, to  Burke.  Burke  cut  blocks  with  a 
razor,  and  went  on  refining  to  an  impatient 
House  of  Commons,  only  eager  for  its  din- 
ner ; and  the  same  Burke  threw  himself  into 
antagonism  to  the  French  Revolution  as  if  he 
were  the  wildest  of  part  isans  ; as  if  the  ques- 
tion had  but  one  side,  and  only  fools  or  vil- 
lains could  possibly  say  it  had  any  other. 

Mr.  Gladstone  grew  slowly  into  Liberal 
convictions.  At  the  time  when  he  joined  the 
Coalition  Ministry  he  was  still-  regarded  as 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


87 


one  who  had  scarcely  left  the  camp  of  Tory- 
ism, and  who  had  only  joined  that  Ministry 
because  it  was  a coalition.  Years  after  he 
was  applied  to  by  the  late  Lord  Derby  to  join 
a Ministry  formed  by  him  ; and  it  was  not 
supposed  that  there  was  anything  unreason- 
able in  the  proposition.  The  first  impulse 
towards  Liberal  principles  was  given  to  his 
mind  probably  by  his  change  with  his  leader 
from  Protection  to  Free  Trade.  When  a 
man  like  Gladstone  saw  that  his  traditional 
principles  and  those  of  his  party  had  broken 
down  in  any  one  direction,  it  was  but  natural 
that  he  should  begin  to  question  their  endur- 
ance in  other  directions.  The  whole  fabric 
of  belief  was  built  up  together.  Glad- 
stone’s was  a mind  of  that  order  that  sees 
a principle  in  every  thing,  and  must,  to  adopt 
the  phrase  of  a great  preacher,  make  the 
ploughing  as  much  a part  of  religious  duty 
as  the  praying.  The  interests  of  religion 
seemed  to  him  bound  up  with  the  creed  of 
Conservatism  ; the  principles  of  Protection 
must  probably  at  one  time  have  seemed  a 
part  of  the  whole  creed  of  which  one  article 
was  as  sacred  as  another.  His  intellect  and 
his  principles,  however,  found  themselves 
compelled  to  follow  the  guidance  of  his  leader 
in  the  matter  of  Free  Trade  ; and  when  in- 
quiry thus  began  it  was  not  very  likely  soon 
to  stop.  He  must  have  seen  how  much  the 
working  of  such  a principle  as  that  of  Pro- 
tection became  a class  interest  in  England, 
and  how  impossible  it  would  have  been  for  it 
to  continue  long  in  existence  under  an  ex- 
tended and  a popular  suffrage.  In  other 
countries  the  fallacy  of  Protection  did  not 
show  itself  so  glaringly  in  the  eyes  of  the 
poorer  classes,  for  in  other  countries  it  was 
not  the  staple  food  of  the  population  that  be- 
came the  principal  object  of  a protective  duty. 
But  in  England  the  bread  on  which  the  poor- 
est had  to  live  was  made  to  pay  a tax  for  the 
benefit  of  landlords  and  farmers.  As  long  as 
one  believed  this  to  be  a necessary  condition 
of  a great  unquestionable  creed,  it  was  easy 
for  a young  statesman  to  reconcile  himself 
to  it.  It  might  bear  cruelly  on  individuals, 
or  even  multitudes  ; but  so  would  the  law  of 
gravitation,  as  Mill  has  remarked,  bear 
harshly  on  the  best  of  men  when  it  dashed 
him  down  from  a height  and  broke  his  bones. 
It  would  be  idle  to  question  the  existence  of 
the  law  on  that  account ; or  to  disbelieve  the 
whole  teaching  of  the  physical  science  which 
explains  its  movements.  But  when  Mr. 
Gladstone  came  to  be  convinced  that  there 
was  no  such  law  as  the  Protection  principle 
at  all ; that  it  was  a mere  sham  ; that  to  be- 
lieve in  it  was  to  be  guilty  of  an  economic 
heresy — then  it  was  impo  sible  for  him  not  to 
begin  questioning  the  genuineness  of  the  whole 
system  of  political  thought  of  which  it  formed 
but  a part.  Perhaps,  too,  he  was  impelled 
towards  Liberal  principles  at  home  by  see- 
ing what  the  effects  of  opposite  doctrines  had 
been  abroad.  He  rendered  memorable  ser- 
vice to  the  Liberal  cause  of  Europe  by  his 
eloquent  protest  against  the  brutal  treatment 
of  Baron  Poerio  and  other  Liberals  of  Naples 
who  were  imprisoned  by  the  Neapolitan  king 
— a protest  which  Garibaldi  declared  to  have 
sounded  the  first  trumpet-call  of  Italian  lib- 
erty. In  rendering  service  to  Liberalism  and 
to  Europe  he  rendered  service  also  to  his  own 
intelligence.  He  helped  to  set  free  his  own 
spirit  as  well  as  the  Neapolitan  people.  We 
find  him,  as  his  career  goes  on,  dropping  the 
traditions  of  his  youth,  always  rising  higher 
in  Liberalism,  and  not  going  back.  One  of 
the  foremost  of  his  compeers,  and  his  only 
actual  rival  in  popular  eloquence,  eulogized 
him  as  always  struggling  towards  the  light. 
The  common  taunts  addressed  to  public  men 
who  have  changed  their  opinions  were  hardly 
ever  applied  to  him.  Even  his  enemies  felt 
that  the  one  idea  always  inspired  him — a 
conscientious  anxiety  to  do  the  right  thing. 
None  accused  him  of  being  one  of  the  poli- 
ticians who  mistake,  as  Victor  Hugo  says,  a 
weathercock  for  a flag.  With  many  qualities 


which  seemed  hardly  suited  to  a practical 
politician  ; with  a sensitive  and  eager  tem- 
per, like  that  of  Canning,  and  a turn  for  theo- 
logical argument  that  as  a rule  Englishmen 
do  not  love  in  a statesman  ; with  an  impetu- 
osity that  often  carried  him  far  astray,  and  a 
deficiency  of  those  genial  social  qualities  that 
go  so  far  to  make  a public  success  in  Eng- 
land, Mr.  Gladstone  maintained  through  the 
whole  of  his  career  a reputation  against 
which  there  was  hardly  a serious  cavil.  The 
worst  thing  that  was  said  of  him  was  that 
he  was  too  impulsive,  and  that  his  intelligence 
was  too  restless.  He  was  an  essayist,  a critic, 
a Homeric  scholar  ; dilettante  in  art,  music, 
and  old  china  ; he  was  a theological  contro- 
versialist ; he  was  a political  economist,  a 
financier,  a practical  administrator  whose  gift 
of  mastering  details  has  hardly  ever  been 
equalled  ; he  was  a statesman  and  an  orator. 
No  man  could  attempt  so  many  things  and 
not  occasionally  make  himself  the  subject  of 
a sneer.  The  intense  gravity  and  earnestness 
of  Gladstone’s  mind  always,  however,  saved 
him  from  the  special  penalty  of  such  versa- 
tility ; no  satirist  described  him  as  not  one, 
but  all  mankind’s  epitome. 

As  yet,  however,  he  is  only  the  young 
statesman  who  was  the  other  day  the  hope  of 
the  more  solemn  and  solid  Conservatives, 
and  in  whom  they  have  not  even  yet  entirely 
ceased  to  put  some  faith.  The  Coalition 
Ministry  was  so  formed  that  it  was  not  sup- 
posed a man  necessarily  nailed  his  colors  to 
any  mast  when  he  joined  it.  More  than  one 
'of  Gladstone’s  earliest  friends  and  political 
associates  had  a part  in  it.  The  Ministry 
might  undoubtedly  be  called  an  Administra- 
tion of  All  the  Talents.  Except  the  late 
Lord  Derby  and  Mr.  Disraeli,  it  included  al  • 
most  every  man  of  real  ability  who  belonged 
to  either  of  the  two  great  parties  of  the 
State.  The  Manchester  School  had,  of 
course,  no  place  there  ; but  they  were  not 
likely  just  yet  to  be  recognized  as  constitut- 
ing one  of  the  elements  out  of  which  even  a 
Coalition  Ministry  might  be  composed. 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  EASTEKN  QUESTION. 

For.  forty  years  England  had  been  at 
peace.  There  had  indeed  been  little  wars 
here  and  there  with  some  of  her  Asiatic  and 
African  neighbors  ; and  once  or  twice,  as  in 
the  instance  of  the  quarrel  between  Turkey 
and  Egypt,  she  had  been  menaced  for  a mo- 
ment with  a dispute  of  a more  formidable 
kind  and  nearer  home.  But  the  trouble  had 
passed  away,  and  from  Waterloo  downward 
England  had  known  no  real  war.  The  new 
generation  were  growing  up  in  a kind  of 
happy  belief  that  wars  were  things  of  the 
past  for  us  ; out  of  fashion  ; belonging  to  a 
ruder  and  less  rational  society,  like  the  wear- 
ing of  armor  and  the  carrying  of  weapons  in 
the  civil  streets.  It  is  not  surprising  if  it 
seemed  possible  to  many  that  the  England  of 
the  future  might  regard  the  instruments  and 
the  ways  of  war  with  the  same  curious  won- 
der as  that  which  Virgil  assumes  would  one 
day  fill  the  minds  of  the  rustic  laborers  whose 
ploughs  turned  up  on  some  field  of  ancient 
battle  the  rusted  swords  and  battered  helmets 
of  forgotten  warriors.  During  all  the  con- 
vulsions of  the  Continent,  England  had  re- 
mained undisturbed.  When  bloody  revolu- 
tions were  storming  through  other  capitals, 
London  was  smiling  over  the  dispersion  of 
the  Chartists  by  a few  special  constables. 
When  the  armies  of  Austria,  of  Russia,  of 
France,  of  Sardinia  were  scattered  over  vast 
and  various  Continental  battle-grounds,  our 
troops  were  passing  in  peaceful  pageantry  of 
review  before  the  well-pleased  eyes  of  their 
Sovereign  in  some  stately  royal  park.  A 
new  school  as  well  as  a new  generation  had 
sprung  up.  This  school,  full  of  faith,  but 
full  of  practical  shrewd  logic  as  well,  was 
teaching  with  great  eloquence  and  effect  that 
the  practice  of  settling  international  contro- 
versy by  the  sword  was  costly,  barbarous, 


and  blundering  as  well  as  wicked.  The 
practice  of  the  duel  in  England  had  utterly 
gone  out.  Battle  was  for  ever  out  of  fashion 
as  a means  of  settling  private  controversy  in 
England.  Why  then  should  it  be  unreasona- 
ble to  believe  that  the  like  practice  among 
nations  might  soon  become  equally  obsolete  Y 
Such  certainly  was  the  faith  of  a great 
many  intelligent  persons  at  the  time  when  the 
Coalition  Ministry  was  formed.  The  ma- 
jority tacitly  acquiesced  in  the  belief  without 
thinking  much  about  it.  They  had  never  in 
their  time  seen  England  engaged  in  Euro- 
pean war  ; and  it  was  natural  to  assume  that 
what  they  had  never  seen  they  were  never 
likely  to  see.  Any  one  who  retraces  atten- 
tively the  history  of  English  public  opinion  at 
that  time  will  easily  find  evidence  enough  of  a 
commonly  accepted  understanding  that  Eng- 
land had  done  with  great  wars.  Even  then 
perhaps  a shrewd  observer  might  have  been 
inclined  to  conjecture  that  by  the  very  force 
of  reaction  a change  would  soon  set  in. 
Man,  said  Lord  Palmerston,  is  by  nature  a 
fighting  and  quarrelling  animal.  This  was 
one  of  those  smart  saucy  generalizations  char- 
acteristic of  its  author,  and  which  used  to 
provoke  many  graver  and  more  philosophic 
persons  ; but  which  nevertheless  often  got  at 
the  heart  of  a question  in  a rough  and  ready 
sort  of  way.  In  the  season  of  which  we  are 
now  speaking,  it  was  not,  however,  the  com- 
mon belief  that  man  was  by  nature  a fight- 
ing and  a quarrelling  animal,  at  least  in  Eng- 
land. Bad  government,  the  arbitrary  power 
of  an  aristocracy,  the  necessity  of  finding  oc- 
cupation for  a standing  army,  the  ambitions 
of  princes,  the  misguiding  lessons  of  romance 
and  poetry  : these  and  other  influences  had 
converted  man  into  an  instrument  of  war. 
Leave  him  to  his  own  impulses,  his  own  na- 
ture, his  own  ideas  of  self-interest,  and  the 
better  teachings  of  wiser  guides,  and  he  is 
sure  to  remain  in  the  paths  of  peace.  Such 
was  the  common  belief  of  the  year  or  two 
after  the  Great  Exhibition — the  belief  fer- 
vently preached  by  a few  and  accepted  with- 
out contradiction  by  the  majority,  as  most 
common  beliefs  are — the  belief  floating  in 
the  air  of  the  time,  and  becoming  part  of  the 
atmosphere  in  which  the  generation  was 
brought  up.  Suddenly  all  this  happy  quiet 
faith  was  disturbed,  and  the  long  peace, 
which  the  hero  of  Tennyson’s  “ Maud”  says 
he  thought  no  peace,  was  over  and  done. 
The  hero  of  “ Maud”  had,  it  will  be  observed, 
the  advantage  of  explaining  his  convictions 
after  the  war  had  broken  out.  The  name 
was  indeed  legion  of  those  who,  under  the 
same  conditions,  discovered  like  him  that 
they  had  never  relished  the  long,  long  peace, 
or  believed  in  it  much  as  a peace  at  all. 

The  Eastern  Question  it  was  that  disturbed 
the  dream  of  peace.  The  use  of  such  phrases 
as  “ the  Eastern  Question,”  borrowed  chiefly 
from  the  political  vocabulary  of  France,  is 
not  in  general  to  be  commended  ; but  we  can 
in  this  instance  find  no  more  ready  and  con- 
venient way  of  expressing  clearly  and  pre- 
cisely the  meaning  of  the  crisis  which  had 
arisen  in  Europe.  It  was  strictly  the  East- 
ern “ question” — the  question  of  what  to  do 
with  the  East  of  Europe.  It  was  certain 
that  things  could  not  remain  as  they  then 
were,  and  nothing  else  was  certain.  The  Ot- 
toman Power  had  been  settled  during  many 
centuries  in  the  south-east  of  Europe.  It 
had  come  in  there  as  a conqueror,  and  had 
remained  there  only  as  a conqueror  occupies 
the  ground  his  tents  are  covering.  The 
Turk  had  many  of  the  strong  qualities  and 
even  the  virtues  of  a great  warlike  conquer- 
or ; but  he  had  no  capacity  or  care  for  the 
arts  of  peace.  He  never  thought  of  assimi- 
lating himself  to  those  whom  he  had  con- 
quered, or  them  to  him.  He  disdained  to 
learn  anything  from  them  ; he  did  not  care 
whether  or  no  they  learned  anything  from 
him.  It  has  been  well  remarked,  that  of  all 
the  races  who  conquered  Greeks,  the  Turks 
alone  learned  nothing  from  their  gifted 


88 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


captives.  Captive  Greece  conquered  all 
the  world  except  the  Turks.  They  defied 
her.  She  could  not  teach  them  letters  or 
arts,  commerce  or  science.  The  Turks  were 
not,  as  a rule,  oppressive  to  the  races  that 
lived  under  them.  They  were  not  habitual 
persecutors  of  the  faiths  they  deemed  heret- 
ical. In  this  respect  they  often  contrasted  fa- 
vorably with  states  that  ought  to  have  been 
able  to  show  them  a better  example.  In 
truth,  the  Turk  for  the  most  part.was  dispos- 
ed to  look  with  disdainful  composure  on 
what  he  considered  the  religious  follies  of 
the  heretical  races  who  did  not  believe  in  the 
Prophet.  They  were  objects  of  his  scornful 
pity  rather  than  of  his  anger.  Every  now 
and  then,  indeed,  some  sudden  fierce  out- 
burst of  fanatical  cruelty  towards  some  of 
the  subject  sects  horrified  Europe,  and  re- 
minded her  that  the  conqueror  who  had  set- 
tled himself  down  in  her  south-eastern  corner 
was  still  a barbarian  who  had  no  right  or 
place  in  civilized  life.  But  as  a rule  the  Turk 
did  not  care  enough  about  the  races  he  ruled 
over  to  feel  the  impulses  of  the  perverted 
fanaticism  which  would  strive  to  scourge 
men  into  the  faith  itself  believes  needful  to 
salvation. 

At  one  time  there  can  be  little  doubt  that 
all  the  Powers  of  civilized  Europe  would 
gladly  have  seen  the  Turk  driven  out  of  our 
Continent.  But  the  Turk  was  powerful  for 
a long  series  of  generations,  and  it  seemed 
for  a while  rather  a question  whether  he 
would  not  send  the  Europeans  out  of  their 
own  grounds.  He  was  for  centuries  the 
great  terror,  the  nightmare,  of  Western  Eu- 
rope. When  he  began  to  decay,  and  when 
his  aggressive  strength  was  practically  all 
gone,  it  might  have  been  thought  that  the 
Western  Powers  would  then  have  managed 
somehow  to  get  rid  of  him.  But  in  the 
meantime  the  condition  of  Europe  had  great- 
ly changed.  No  one  not  actually  subject  to 
the  Turk  was  afraid  of  him  any  more  ; and 
other  States  had  arisen  strong  for  aggression. 
The  uncertainties  of  these  States  as  to  the  in- 
tentions of  their  neighbors  and  each  other 
proved  a better  bulwark  for  the  Turks  than 
any  warlike  strength  of  their  own  could  any 
longer  have  furnished.  The  growth  of  the 
great  Russian  empire  was  of  itself  enough  to 
change  the  whole  conditions  of  the  problem. 

Nothing  in  our  times  has  been  more  re- 
markable than  the  sudden  growth  of  Russia. 
The  rise  of  the  United  States  is  not  so  won- 
derful ; for  the  men  who  made  the  United 
States  were  civilized  men  ; men  of  our  own 
race  who  might  be  expected  to  make  a way 
for  themselves  anywhere,  and  who  were, 
moreover,  put  by  destiny  in  possession  of  a 
vast  and  splendid  continent  having  all  va- 
riety of  climate  and  a limitless  productive- 
ness, and  where  they  had  no  neighbors  or 
rivals  to  molest  them.  But  Russia  was  peo- 
pled by  a race  who  even  down  to  our  own 
times  remain  in  many  respects  little  better 
than  semi-barbarous  ; and  she  had  enemies 
and  obstacles  on  all  sides.  A few  genera- 
tions ago  Russia  was  literally  an  inland 
state.  She  was  shut  up  in  the  heart  of  East- 
ern Europe  as  if  in  a prison.  The  genius, 
the  craft  and  the  audacity  of  Peter  the  Great 
first  broke  the  narrow  bounds  set  to  the  Rus- 
sia of  his  day,  and  extended  her  frontier  to 
the  sea.  He  was  followed  after  a reign  or 
two  by  a woman  of  genius,  daring,  unscru- 
pulousness, and  profligacy  equal  to  his  own  ; 
the  greatest  woman  probably  who  ever  sat 
on  a throne,  Elizabeth  of  England  not  even 
excepted.  Catherine  the  Second  so  ably  fol- 
lowed the  example  of  Peter  the  Great,  that 
she  extended  the  Russian  frontier  in  direc- 
tions which  he  had  not  had  opportunity  to 
stretch  to.  By  the  time  her  reign  was  done 
Russia  was  one  of  the  Great  Powers  of  Eu- 
rope, entitled  to  enter  into  negotiations  on  a 
footing  of  equality  with  the  proudest  States 
of  the  Continent.  Unlike  Turkey,  Russia 
had  always  shown  a yearning  after  the  lat- 
est developments  of  science  and  of  civiliza- 


tion. There  was  something  even  of  affecta- 
tion, provoking  the  smiles  of  an  older  and 
more  ingrained  culture,  in  the  efforts  persist- 
ently made  by  Russia  to  put  on  the  gar- 
ments of  Western  civilization.  Catherine  the 
Great,  in  especial,  had  set  the  example  in  this 
•way.  She  invited  Diderot  to  her  court.  She 
adorned  her  cabinet  with  a bust  of  Charles 
James  Fox.  While  some  of  the  personal 
habits  of  herself  and  of  those  who  surround- 
ed her  at  court  would  have  seemed  too  rude 
and  coarse  for  Esquimaux,  and  while  she  was 
putting  down  free  opinion  at  home  with  a 
severity  worthy  only  of  some  mediaeval  Asi- 
atic potentate,  she  was  always  talking  as 
though  she  were  a disciple  of  Rousseau’s 
ideas  and  a pupil  of  Chesterfield  in  manners. 
This  may  have  seemed  ridiculous  enough 
sometimes  ; and  even  in  our  own  days  the 
contrast  between  the  professions  and  the  prac- 
tices of  Russia  is  a familiar  subject  of  satire. 
But  in  nations  at  least  the  homage  which  imi- 
tation pays  often  wins  for  half-conscious  hy- 
pocrisy as  much  success  as  earnest  and  sin- 
cere endeavor.  A nation  that  tries  to  appear 
more  civilized  than  it  really  is  ends  very 
often  by  becoming  more  civilized  than  its 
neighbors  ever  thought  it  likely  to  be. 

The  wars  against  Napoleon  brought  Russia 
into  close  alliance  with  England,  Austria, 
Prussia,  and  other  European  States  of  old 
and  advanced  civilization.  Russia  was,  dur- 
ing one  part  of  that  great  struggle,  the  lead- 
ing spirit  of  the  alliance  against  Napoleon. 
Her  soldiers  were  seen  in  Italy  and  in  France, 
as  well  as  in  the  East  of  Europe.  The  semi- 
savage state  became  in  the  eyes  of  Europe  a 
power  charged  along  with  others  with  the 
protection  of  the  conservative  interests  of  the 
Continent.  She  was  recognized  as  a valua- 
ble friend  and  a most  formidable  enemy. 
Gradually  it  became  evident  that  she  could 
be  aggressive  as  well  as  conservative.  In  the 
war  between  Austria  and  Hungary,  Russia 
intervened  and  conquered  Austria’s  rebel- 
lious Hungarians  for  her.  Russia  had  al- 
ready earned  the  hatred  of  European  Liber- 
als by  her  share  in  the  partition  of  Poland 
and  her  manner  of  dealing  with  the  Poles. 
After  a while  it  grew  to  be  a fixed  conviction 
in  the  mind  of  the  Liberalism  of  Western 
Europe  that  Russia  was  the  greatest  obstacle 
then  existing  in  civilization  to  the  spread  of 
popular  ideas.  The  Turk  was  comparative- 
ly harmless  in  that  sense.  He  was  well  con- 
tent now,  so  much  had  his  ancient  ambition 
shrunk  and  his  ancient  war  spirit  gone  out, 
if  his  strong  and  restless  neighbors  would 
only  let  him  alone.  But  he  was  brought  at 
more  than  one  point  into  especial  collision 
with  Russia.  Many  of  the  provinces  he  ruled 
over  in  European  Turkey  were  of  Sclavonian 
race,  and  of  the  religion  of  the  Greek  Church. 
They  were  thus  affined  by  a double  tie  to 
the  Russian  people,  and  therefore  the  manner 
in  which  Turkey  dealt  with  those  provinces 
was  a constant  source  of  dispute  between 
Russia  and  her.  The  Russians  are  a pro- 
foundly religious  people.  No  matter  what 
one  may  think  of  their  form  of  faith,  no  mat- 
ter how  he  may  sometimes  observe  that  re- 
ligious profession  contrasts  with  the  daily 
habits  of  life,  yet  he  cannot  but  see  that  the 
Russian  character  is  steeped  in  religious 
faith  or  fanaticism.  To  the  Russian  fanatic 
there  was  something  intolerable  in  the 
thought  of  a Sclave  population  professing 
the  religion  of  the  orthodox  Church  being 
persecuted  by  the  Turks.  No  Russian  ruler 
could  hope  to  be  popular  who  ventured  to 
show  a disregard  for  the  national  sentiment 
on  this  subject.  The  Christian  populations 
of  Turkey  were  to  the  Russian  sovereigns 
what  the  Germans  of  Schleswig-Holstein 
were  to  the  great  German  princes  of  later 
years,  an  indirect  charge  to  which  they  could 
not,  if  they  would,  profess  any  indifference. 
A German  prince,  in  order  to  be  popular, 
had  to  proclaim  himself  enthusiastic  about 
the  cause  of  Schleswig-Holstein  ; a Russian 
emperor  could  not  be  loved  if  he  did  not  de- 


| clare  his  undying  resolve  to  be  the  protector 
of  the  Christian  populations  of  Turkey. 
Much  of  this  was  probably  sincere  and  sin- 
gle-minded on  the  part  of  the  Russian  people 
and  most  of  the  Russian  politicians.  But  the 
other  States  of  Europe  began  to  suspect  that 
mingled  up  with  benign  ideas  of  protecting 
the  Christian  populations  of  Turkey  might 
be  a desire  to  extend  the  frontier  of  Russia  to 
the  southward  in  a new  direction.  Europe 
had  seen  by  what  craft  and  what  audacious 
enterprises  Russia  had  managed  to  extend  her 
empire  to  the  sea  in  other  quarters  ; it  began 
to  be  commonly  believed  that  her  next  ob- 
ject of  ambition  would  be  the  possession  of 
Constantinople  and  the  Bosphorus.  It  was 
reported  that  a will  of  Peter  the  Great  had 
left  it  as  an  injunction  to  his  successors  to 
turn  all  the  efforts  of  their  policy  towards 
that  object.  The  particular  document  which 
was  beiieved  to  be  a will  of  Peter  the  Great 
enjoined  on  all  succeeding  Russian  sover- 
eigns never  to  relax  in  the  extension  of  their 
territory  northward  on  the  Baltic  and  south- 
ward on  the  Black  Sea  shores,  and  to  en- 
croach as  far  as  possible  in  the  direction  of 
Constantinople  and  the  Indies.  ‘ ‘ To  work 
out  this,  raise  wars  continually — at  one  time 
against  Turkey,  at  another  against  Persia ; 
make  dockyards  on  the  Black  Sea ; by  de- 
grees make  yourselves  masters  of  that  sea  as 
well  as  of  the  Baltic  ; hasten  the  decay  of 
Persia,  and  penetrate  to  the  Persian  Gulf  ; 
establish,  if  possible,  the  ancient  commerce 
of  the  East  via  Syria,  and  push  on  to  the 
Indies,  which  are  the  entrepot  of  the  world. 
Once  there,  you  need  not  fear  the  gold  of 
England.”  We  now  know  that  the  alleged 
will  was  not  genuine  ; but  there  could  be  lit- 
tle doubt  that  the  policy  of  Peter  and  of  his 
great  follower,  Catherine,  would  have  been 
in  thorough  harmony  with  such  a project. 
It  therefore  seemed  to  be  the  natural  business 
of  other  European  Powers  to  see  that  the  de- 
fects of  the  Ottoman  Government,  such  as 
they  were,  should  not  be  made  an  excuse  for 
helping  Russia  to  secure  the  objects  of  her 
special  ambition.  One  Great  Power,  above 
all  the  rest,  had  an  interest  in  watching  over 
every  movement  that  threatened  in  any  way 
to  interfere  with  the  highway  to  India ; 
still  more  with  her  peaceful  ana  secure  pos- 
session of  India  itself.  That  Power,  of 
course,  was  England.  England,  Russia,  and 
Turkey  were  alike  in  one  respect : they 
were  all  Asiatic  as  well  as  European  powers. 
But  Turkey  could  never  come  into  any  man- 
ner of  collision  with  the  interests  of  England 
in  the  East.  The  days  of  Turkey’s  interfer- 
ing with  any  great  State  were  long  over. 
Neither  Russia  nor  England  nor  any  other 
Power  in  Europe  or  Asia  feared  her  any 
more.  On  the  contrary,  there  seemed  some- 
thing like  a natural  antagonism  between 
England  and  Russia  in  the  East.  The  Rus- 
sians were  extending  their  frontier  towards 
that  of  our  Indian  empire.  They  were  show- 
ing in  that  quarter  the  same  mixture  of  ciaft 
and  audacity  which  had  stood  them  in  good 
stead  in  various  parts  of  Europe.  Our  offi- 
cers and  diplomatic  emissaries  reported  that 
they  were  continually  confronted  by  the  evi- 
dences of  Russian  intrigue  in  Central  Asia. 
We  have  already  seen  how  much  influence 
the  real  or  supposed  intrigues  of  Russia  had 
in  directing  our  policy  in  Afghanistan. 
Doubtless  there  was  some  exaggeration  and 
some  panic  in  all  the  tales  that  were  told 
of  Russian  intrigue.  Sometimes  the  alarm 
spread  by  these  tales  conjured  up  a kind  of 
Russian  hobgoblin,  bewildering  the  minds  of 
public  servants,  and  making  even  statesmen 
occasionally  seem  like  affrighted  children. 
The  question  that  at  present  concerns  us  is 
not  whether  all  the  apprehensions  of  danger 
from  Russia  were  just  and  reasonable,  but 
whether  as  a matter  of  fact  they  did  exist. 
They  certainly  counted  for  a great  deal  in  de- 
termining the  altitude  of  the  English  people 
towards  both  Turkey  and  Russia.  It  was 
in  great  measure  out  of  these  alarms  that 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


89 


there  grew  up  among  certain  statesmen  and 
classes  in  this  country  the  conviction  that  the 
maintenance  of  the  integrity  of  the  Turkish 
empire  was  part  of  the  national  duty  of  Eng- 
land. 

It  is  not  too  much,  therefore,  to  say  that 
the  States  of  Europe  generally  desired  the 
maintenance  of  the  Ottoman  empire  simply 
because  it  was  believed  that  while  Turkey 
held  her  place  she  was  a barrier  against  vague 
dangers  which  it  was  not  worth  while  en- 
countering as  long  as  they  could  possibly  be 
averted.  Sharply  defined,  the  condition  of 
things  was  this  : Russia,  by  reason  of  her 
sympathy  of  religion  or  race  with  Turkey’s 
Christian  populations,  was  brought  into 
chronic  antagonism  with  Turkey  ; England, 
by  reason  of  her  Asiatic  possessions,  was 
kept  in  just  the  same  state  of  antagonism  to 
Russia.  The  position  of  England  was  trying 
and  difficult.  She  felt  herself  compelled  by 
the  seeming  necessity  of  her  national  inter- 
ests to  maintain  the  existence  of  a Power 
which  on  its  own  merits  stood  condemned, 
and  for  which,  as  a Power,  no  English  states- 
man ever  cared  to  say  a word.  The  position 
of  Russia  had  more  plausibility  about  it.  It 
sounded  better  when  described  in  an  official 
document  or  a popular  appeal.  Russia  was 
the  religious  state  which  had  made  it  her  mis- 
sion and  her  duty  to  protect  the  suffering 
Christians  of  Turkey.  England,  let  her  state 
her  case  no  matter  how  carefully  or  frankly, 
could  only  affirm  that  her  motive  in  opposing 
Russia  was  the  protection  of  her  own  inter- 
ests. One  inconvenient  result  of  this  condi- 
tion of  things  was  that  here  among  English 
people  there  was  always  a wide  difference 
of  opinion  as  to  the  national  policy  with  re- 
gard to  Russia  and  Turkey.  Many  public 
men  of  great  ability  and  influence  were  of 
opinion  that  England  had  no  right  to  uphold 
the  Ottoman  Power  because  of  any  fancied 
danger  that  might  come  to  us  from  its  fall. 
It  was  the  simple  duty  of  England,  they  in- 
sisted, to  he  just  and  fear  not.  In  private 
life,  they  contended,  we  should  all  abhor  a 
man  who  assisted  a ruffian  to  live  in  a house 
which  he  had  only  got  into  as  a burglar, 
merely  because  there  was  a chance  that  the 
dispossession  of  the  ruffian  might  enable  his 
patron’s  rival  in  business  to  become  the  own- 
er of  the  premises.  The  duty,  they  insist- 
ed, of  a conscientious  man  is  clear.  He  must 
not  patronize  a ruffian,  whatever  comes.  Let 
what  will  happen,  that  he  must  not  do.  So 
it  was,  according  to  their  argument,  with  na- 
tional policy.  We  are  not  concerned  in  dis- 
cussing this  question  just  now  ; we  are  mere- 
ly acknowledging  a fact  which  came  to  be  of 
material  consequence  when  the  crisis  arose 
that  threw  England  into  sudden  antagonism 
with  Russia. 

That  crisis  came  about  during  the  later 
years  of  the  reign  of  the  Emperor  Nicholas. 
He  saw  its  opening,  but  not  the  close  of  even 
its  first  volume.  Nicholas  was  a man  of  re- 
markable character.  He  had  many  of  the 
ways  of  an  Asiatic  despot.  He  had  a strong 
ambition,  a fierce  and  fitful  temper,  a daring 
but  sometimes  too  a vacillating  will.  He  had 
many  magnanimous  and  noble  qualities, 
and  moods  of  sweetness  and  gentleness.  He 
reminded  people  sometimes  of  an  Alexander 
the  Great ; sometimes  of  the  “ Arabian 
Nights”  version  of  Haroun  Alraschid.  A 
certain  excitability  ran  through  the  tempera- 
ment of  all  his  house,  which,  in  some  of  its 
members,  broke  into  actual  madness,  and  in 
others  prevailed  no  farther  than  to  lead  to  wild 
outbreaks  of  temper  such  as  those  that  often 
convulsed  the  frame  and  distorted  the  char- 
acter of  a Charles  the  Bold  or  a Coeur  de 
Lion.  We  cannot  date  the  ways  and  charac- 
ters of  Nicholas’s  family  from  the  years  o: 
Peter  the  Great.  We  must,  for  tolerably  ob- 
vious reasons,  be  content  to  deduce  their  ori- 
gin from  the  reign  of  Catherine  II.  The  ex- 
traordinary and  almost  unparalleled  condi- 
tions of  the  early  married  life  of  that  much- 
injured,  much-injuring  woman  would  easily 


account  for  any  aberrations  of  intellect  and 
will  among  her  immediate  descendants.  Her 
son  was  a madman  ; there  was  madness  or 
something  very  like  it  among  the  brothers  of 
the  Emperor  Nicholas.  The  Emperor  at  one 
time  was  very  popular  in  England.  He  had 
visited  the  Queen,  and  he  had  impressed 
every  one  by  his  noble  presence,  his  lofty 
stature,  his  singular  personal  beauty,  his 
blended  dignity  and  familiarity  of  manner. 
He  talked  as  if  he  had  no  higher  ambition 
than  to  be  in  friendly  alliance  with  England. 
When  he  wished  to  convey  his  impression  of 
the  highest  degree  of  personal  loyalty  and 
honor,  he  always  spoke  of  the  word  of  an 
English  gentleman.  There  can,  indeed,  be 
little  doubt  that  the  Emperor  was  sincerely 
anxious  to  keep  on  terms  of  cordial  friend- 
ship with  England  ; and,  what  is  more,  had 
no  idea  until  the  very  last  that  the  way  he 
was  walking  was  one  which  England  could 
not  consent  to  tread.  His  brother  and  pre- 
decessor had  been  in  close  alliance  with  Eng- 
land ; his  own  ideal  hero  was  the  Duke  of 
Wellington  ; he  had  made  up  his  mind  that 
when  the  division  of  the  spoils  of  Turkey 
came  about,  England  and  he  could  best  con- 
sult for  their  own  interests  and  the  peace  of 
the  world  by  making  the  appropriation  a mat- 
ter of  joint  arrangement. 

We  do  not  often  in  history  find  a great  des- 
pot explaining  in  advance  and  in  frank 
words  a general  policy  like  that  which  the 
Emperor  Nicholas  cherished  with  regard  to 
Turkey.  We  are  usually  left  to  infer  his 
schemes  from  his  acts.  Not  uncommonly  we 
have  to  set  his  acts  and  the  fair  inferences 
from  them  against  his  own  positive  and  re- 
peated assurances.  But  in  the  case  of  the 
Emperor  Nicholas  we  are  left  in  no  such 
doubt.  He  told  England  exactly  what  he 
proposed  to  do.  He  told  the  story  twice 
over  ; more  than  that,  he  consigned  it  to 
writing  for  our  clearer  understanding. 
When  he  visited  England  in  1814,  for  the 
second  time,  Nicholas  had  several  conversa- 
tions with  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and  with 
Lord  Aberdeen,  then  Foreign  Secretary, 
about  Turkey  and  her  prospects,  and  what 
would  be  likely  to  happen  in  the  case  of  her 
dissolution,  which  he  believed  to  be  immi- 
nent. When  he  returned  to  Russia  lie  had  a 
memorandum  drawn  up  by  Count  Nessel- 
rode, his  Chancellor,  embodying  the  views 
which,  according  to  Nicholas’s  impressions, 
were  entertained  alike  by  him  and  by  the 
British  statesmen  with  whom  he  had  been 
conversing.  Mr.  Ivinglake  says  that  he  sent 
this  document  to  England  with  the  view  of 
covering  his  retreat,  having  met  with  no 
encouragement  from  the  English  statesmen. 
Our  idea  of  the  matter  is  different.  It  may 
be  taken  for  granted  that  the  English  states- 
men did  not  give  Nicholas  any  encourage- 
ment, or  at  least  that  they  did  not  intend  to 
do  so  ; but  it  seems  clear  to  us  that  lie  believ- 
ed they  had  done  so.  The  memorandum 
drawn  up  by  Count  Nesselrode  is  much  more 
like  a formal  reminder  or  record  of  a general 
and  oral  engagement  than  a withdrawal  from 
a proposal  which  was  evidently  not  likely  to 
be  accepted.  The  memorandum  set  forth 
that  Russia  and  England  were  alike  penetrat- 
ed by  the  conviction  that  it  was  for  their  com- 
mon interest  that  the  Ottoman  empire  should 
maintain  itself  in  its  existing  independence 
and  extent  of  territory,  and  that  they  had  an 
equal  interest  in  averting  all  the  dangers  that 
might  place  its  safety  in  jeopardy.  With 
this  object,  the  memorandum  declared,  the 
essential  point  was  to  suffer  the  Porte  to  live 
in  repose  without  needlessly  disturbing  it 
by  diplomatic  bickering.  Turkey,  however, 
had  a habit  of  constantly  breaking  her  en- 
gagements ; and  the  memorandum  insisted 
strongly  that  while  she  kept  up  this  practice 
it  was  impossible  for  her  integrity  to  be  se- 
cure ; and  this  practice  of  hers  was  indulged 
in  because  she  believed  she  might  do  so  with 
impunity,  reckoning  on  the  mutual  jealousies 
of  the  cabinets,  and  thinking  that  if  she 


failed  in  her  engagements  towards  one  of 
them,  the  rest  would  espouse  her  cause. 
“ As  soon  as  the  Porte  shall  perceive  that  it  is 
not  supported  by  the  other  cabinets,  it  will 
give  way,  and  the  differences  which  have 
arisen  will  be  arranged  in  a conciliatory  man- 
ner, without  any  conflict  resulting  from 
them.”  The  memorandum  spoke  of  the  im- 
perative necessity  of  Turkey  being  led  to  treat 
her  Christian  subjects  with  toleration  and 
mildness.  On  such  conditions  it  was  laid 
down  that  England  and  Russia  must  alike 
desire  her  preservation  ; but  the  document 
proceeded  to  say  that  nevertheless  these  States 
could  not  conceal  from  themselves  the  fact 
that  the  Ottoman  empire  contained  within  it- 
self many  elements  of  dissolution,  and  that 
unforeseen  events  might  at  any  time  hasten  its 
fall.  “ In  the  uncertainty  which  hovers  over 
the  future  a single  fundamental  idea  seems 
to  admit  of  a really  practical  application  ; 
that  is,  that  the  danger  which  may  result 
from  a catastrophe  in  Turkey  will  be  much 
diminished  if  in  the  event  of  its  occurring 
Russia  and  England  have  come  to  an  under- 
standing as  to  the  course  to  be  taken  by  them 
in  common.  That  understanding  will  be  the 
more  beneficial  inasmuch  as  it  will  have  the 
full  assent  of  Austria,  between  whom  and 
Russia  there  already  exists  an  entire  accord.” 
This  document  was  sent  to  London  and  kept 
in  the  archives  of  the  Foreign  Office.  It  was 
only  produced  and  made  public  when,  at  a 
much  later  day,  the  Russian  press  began  to 
insist  that  the  English  Government  had  al- 
ways been  in  possession  of  the  views  of  Rus- 
sia in  regard  to  Turkey.  It  seems  to  us  evi- 
dent that  the  Emperor  of  Russia  really  be- 
lieved that  his  views  were  shared  by  English 
statesmen.  The  mere  fact  that  his  memo- 
randum was  received  and  retained  in  the  Eng- 
lish Foreign  Office  might  well  of  itself  tend 
to  make  Nicholas  assume  that  its  principles 
were  recognized  by  the  English  Government 
as  the  basis  of  a common  action,  or  at  least  a 
common  understanding,  between  England  and 
Russia.  Nothing  is  more  easy  than  to  allow 
a fanatic  or  a man  of  one  idea  to  suppose 
that  those  to  whom  he  explains  his  views  are 
convinced  by  him  and  in  agreement  with 
him.  It  is  only  necessary  to  listen  and  say 
nothing.  Therefore,  it  is  to  be  regretted  that 
the  English  statesmen  should  have  listened  to 
Nicholas  without  saying  something  very  dis- 
tinct to  show  that  they  were  not  admitting  or 
accepting  any  combination  of  purpose  ; or 
that  they  should  have  received  his  memoran- 
dum without  some  distinct  disclaimer  of  their 
being  in  any  way  bound  by  its  terms. 
Some  of  the  statements  in  the  memorandum 
were  at  the  least  sufficiently  remarkable  to 
have  called  for  comment  of  some  kind  from 
the  English  statesmen  who  received  it.  For 
example  the  Emperor  of  Russia  professed 
to  have  in  his  hands  not  alone  the  policy  of 
Russia,  but  that  of  Austria  as  well.  He 
spoke  for  Austria,  and  he  stated  that  he  un- 
derstood himself  to  be  speaking  for  England 
too.  Accordingly,  England,  Austria,  and 
Russia  were,  in  his  understanding,  entering 
into  a secret  conspiracy  among  themselves 
for  the  disposal  of  the  territory  of  a friendly 
Power  in  the  event  of  that  Power  getting  into 
difficulties.  This  might  surely  be  thought 
by  the  English  statesmen  to  bear  an  ominous 
and  painful  resemblance  to  the  kind  of  pour- 
parlers that  were  going  on  between  Russia, 
Prussia,  and  Austria  before  the  partition  of 
Poland,  and  might  well  have  seemed  to  call 
for  a strong  and  unmistakable  repudiation 
on  the  part  of  England.  We  could  scarcely 
have  been  too  emphatic  or  too  precise  in  con- 
veying to  the  Emperor  of  Russia  our  deter- 
mination to  have  nothing  to  do  with  any 
such  conspiracy. 

Time  went  on  and  the  Emperor  thought  he 
saw  an  occasion  for  still  more  clearly  ex- 
plaining his  plans  and  for  reviving  the  sup- 
posed understanding  with  England.  Lord 
Aberdeen  came  into  office  as  Prime  Minister 
of  this  country  ; Lord  Aberdeen  who  was 


90 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


Foreign  Secretary  when  Nicholas  was  in  Eng- 
land in  1844.  On  January  9, 1853,  before  the 
re-elections  which  were  consequent  upon  the 
new  ministerial  appointments  had  yet  taken 
place,  the  Emperor  met  our  minister,  Sir  G. 
Hamilton  Seymour,  at  a party  given  by  the 
Archduchess  Helen,  at  her  palace  in  St. 
Petersburg,  and  he  drew  him  aside  and  began 
to  talk  with  him  in  the  most  outspoken  man- 
ner about  the  future  of  Turkey  and  the  ar- 
rangements it  might  be  necessary  for  Eng- 
land and  Russia  to  make  regarding  it.  The 
conversation  was  renewed  again  and  again 
afterwards.  Few  conversations  have  had 
greater  fame  than  these.  One  phrase  which 
the  Emperor  employed  has  passed  into  the 
familiar  political  language  of  the  world.  As 
long  as  there  is  memory  of  an  Ottoman  em- 
pire in  Europe,  so  long  the  Turkey  of  the 
days  before  the  Crimean  War  will  be  called 
‘ ‘ the  sick  man.  ” “We  have  on  our  hands,  ’ ’ 
said  the  Emperor,  “ a sick  man — a very  sick 
man  ; it  will  be  a great  misfortune  if  one  of 
these  days  he  should  slip  away  from  us  be- 
fore the  necessary  arrangements  have  been 
made.”  The  conversations  all  tended  to- 
wards the  one  purpose.  The  Emperor  urged 
that  England  and  Russia  ought  to  make  ar- 
rangements beforehand  as  to  the  inheritance 
of  the  Ottoman  in  Europe — before  what 
he  regarded  as  the  approaching  and  inevita- 
ble day  when  the  sick  man  must  come  to 
die.  The  Emperor  explained  that  he  did 
not  contemplate  nor  would  he  allow  a 
permanent  occupation  of  Constantinople  by 
Russia  ; nor  on  the  other  hand  would  he 
consent  to  see  that  city  held  by  England 
or  France  or  any  other  Great  Power.  He 
would  not  listen  to  any  plans  for  the  re- 
construction of  Greece  in  the  form  of  a By- 
zantine empire,  nor  would  he  allow  Turkey 
to  be  split  up  into  little  republics — asylums, 
as  he  said,  for  the  Kossuths  and  Mazzinis  of 
Europe.  It  was  not  made  very  clear  what 
the  Emperor  wished  to  have  done  with  Con- 
stantinople, if  it  was  not  to  be  Russian,  nor 
Turkish,  nor  English,  nor  French,  nor  Greek, 
nor  yet  a little  republic  ; but  it  was  evident 
at  all  events  that  Nicholas  had  made  up  his 
mind  as  to  what  it  was  not  to  be.  He  thought 
that  Servia  and  Bulgaria  might  become  inde- 
pendent States  ; that  is  to  say,  independent 
States,  such  as  he  considered  the  Danubian 
Principalities  then  to  be,  “ under  my  protec 
tion.”  If  the  reorganization  of  South-east- 
ern Europe  made  it  seem  necessary  to  Eng- 
land that  she  should  take  possession  of  Egypt, 
the  Emperor  said  he  should  offer  no  objec- 
tion. He  said  the  same  thing  of  Candia if 
England  desired  to  have  that  island,  he  saw 
no  objection.  He  did  not  ask  for  any  formal 
treaty,  he  said  ; indeed,  such  arrangements 
as  that  are  not  generally  consigned  to  formal 
treaties  ; he  only  wished  for  such  an  under- 
standing as  might  be  come  to  among  gentle- 
men, and  he  was  satisfied  that  if  he  had  ten 
minutes’  conversation  with  Lord  Aberdeen 
the  thing  could  be  easily  settled.  If  only 
England  and  Russia  could  arrive  at  an  un- 
derstanding on  the  subject,  he  declared  that 
it  was  a matter  of  indifference  to  him  what 
other  Powers  might  think  or  say.  He  spoke 
of  the  several  millions  of  Christians  in  Tur- 
key whose  rights  he  was  called  upon  to 
watch  over,  and  he  remarked — the  remark 
is  of  significance — that  the  right  of  watch- 
ing over  them  was  secured  to  him  by  treaty. 

The  Emperor  was  evidently  under  the  im- 
pression that  the  interests  of  England  and  of 
Russia  were  united  in  this  proposed  transac- 
tion. He  had  no  idea  of  anything  but  the 
most  perfect  frankness  so  far  as  we  were 
concerned.  It  clearly  had  not  occurred  to 
him  to  suspect  that  there  could  be  anything 
dishonorable,  anything  England  might  recoil 
from,  in  the  suggestion  that  the  two  Powers 
1 ought  to  enter  into  a plot  to  divide  the  sick 
man’s  goods  between  them  while  the  breath 
was  yet  in  the  sick  man’s  body.  It  did  not 
even  occur  to  him  that  there  could  be  any- 
thing dishonorable  in  entering  into  such  a 


compact  without  the  knowledge  of  any  other 
of  the  great  European  Powers.  The  Emperor 
desired  to  act  like  a man  of  honor  ; but  the 
idea  of  Western  honor  was  as  yet  new  to 
Russia,  and  it  had  not  quite  got  possession 
of  the  mind  of  Nicholas.  He  was  like  the 
savage  who  is  ambitious  of  learning  the  ways 
of  civilization,  and  who  may  be  counted  on 
to  do  whatever  he  knows  to  be  in  accordance 
with  these  ways,  but  who  is  constantly  liable 
to  make  a mistake  simply  from  not  knowing 
how  to  apply  them  in  each  new  emergency. 
The  very  consequences  which  came  from 
Nicholas’s  confidential  communications  with 
our  minister  would  of  themselves  testify  to 
his  sincerity,  and  in  a certain  sense  to  his 
simplicity.  But  the  English  Government 
never  after  the  disclosures  of  Sir  Hamilton 
Seymour  put  any  faith  in  Nicholas.  They 
regarded  him  as  nothing  better  than  a plot- 
ter. They  did  not  probably  even  make  al- 
lowance enough  for  the  degree  of  religious 
or  superstitious  fervor  which  accompanied 
and  qualified  all  his  ambition  and  his  craft. 
Human  nature  is  so  oddly  blent  that  we 
ought  not  to  be  surprised  df  we  find  a very 
high  degree  of  fanatical  and  sincere  fervor 
in  company  with  a crafty  selfishness.  The 
English  Government  and  most  of  the  English 
people  ever  after  looked  on  Nicholas  as  a de- 
termined plotter  and  plunderer,  who  was  not 
to  be  made  an  associate  in  any  engagement. 
On  the  other  hand,  Nicholas  was  as  much 
disappointed  as  an  honest  highwayman  of 
the  days  of  Captain  Macheath  might  have 
been  who,  on  making  a handsome  offer  of  a 
share  in  a new  enterprise  to  a trusted  and 
familiar  “ pal,”  finds  that  the  latter  is  taken 
with  a fit  of  virtuous  indignation  and  is  hur- 
rying off  to  Bow  Street  to  tell  the  whole 
story. 

The  English  Minister  and  the  English  Gov- 
ernment could  only  answer  the  Emperor’s 
overtures  by  saying  that  they  did  not  think 
it  quite  usual  to  enter  into  arrangements  for 
the  spoliation  of  a friendly  Power,  and  that 
England  had  no  desire  to  si  cceed  to  any  of 
the  possessions  of  Turkey.  The  Emperor 
doubtless  did  not  believe  these  assurances. 
He  probably  felt  convinced  that  England  had 
some  game  of  her  own  in  hand  into  which 
she  did  not  find  it  convenient  to  admit  him 
on  terms  of  partnership.  He  must  have  felt 
bitterly  annoyed  at  the  thought  that  he  had 
committed  himself  so  far  for  nothing.  The 
communications  were  of  course  understood 
to  be  strictly  confidential and  Nicholas  had 
no  fear  that  they  would  be  given  to  the  pub- 
lic at  that  time.  The3rwerein  fact  not  made 
publicly  known  for  more  than  a year  after. 
But  Nicholas  had  the  dissatisfaction  of  know- 
ing that  her  Majesty’s  ministers  were  now  in 
possession  of  his  designs.  He  had  the  ad- 
ditional discomfort  of  believing  that  while  he 
had  shown  his  hand  to  them,  they  had  con- 
trived to  keep  whatever  designs  of  their  own 
they  were  preparing  a complete  secret  from 
him.  One  unfortunate  admission,  the  sig- 
nificance of  which  will  be  seen  hereafter, 
was  made  on  the  part  of  the  English  Govern- 
ment during  the  correspondence  caused  by 
the  conversation  between  the  Emperor  and 
Sir  Hamilton  Seymour.  It  was  Lord  John 
Russell  who,  inadvertently  .no  doubt,  made 
this  admission.  In  his  letter  to  Sir  Hamilton 
Seymour  on  February  9,  1853,  he  wound  up 
with  the  words,  ‘ ‘ The  more  the  Turkish 
Government  adopts  the  rules  of  impartial 
law  and  equal  administration,  the  less  will 
the  Emperor  of  Russia  find  it  necessary  to 
apply  that  exceptional  protection  which  his 
Imperial  Majesty  has  found  so  burdensome 
and  inconvenient,  though  no  doubt  prescribed 
by  duty  and  sanctioned  by  treaty.  ’ ’ 

These  conversations  with  Sir  Hamilton 
Seymour  formed  but  an  episode  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  events  that  were  then  going  on. 
It  was  an  episode  of  great  importance,  even 
to  the  immediate  progress  of  the  events,  and 
it  had  much  to  do  with  the  turn  they  took 
towards  war ; but  there  were  great  forces 


moving  towards  antagonism  in  the  South- 
east of  Europe  tha£  must  in  any  case  have 
come  into  collision.  Russia,  with  her  ambi- 
tions, her  tendency  to  enlarge  her  frontier 
on  all  sides,  and  her  natural  sympathies  of 
race  and  religion  with  the  Christian  and 
Sclave  populations  under  Turkish  rule,  must 
before  long  have  come  into  active  hostility 
with  the  Porte.  Even  at  the  present  some- 
what critical  time  we  are  not  under  any 
necessity  to  persuade  ourselves  that  Russia 
was  actuated  in  the  movements  she  made  by 
merely  selfish  ambition  and  nothing  else  ; 
that  all  the  wrong  was  on  her  side  of  the 
quarrel  and  all  the  right  upon  ours.  It  may 
be  conceded  without  any  abrogation  of  patri- 
otic English  sentiment  that  in  standing  up 
for  the  populations  so  closely  affined  to  her  in 
race  and  religion,  Russia  was  acting  very 
■much  as  England  would  have  acted  under 
similar  circumstances.  If  we  can  imagine  a 
number  of  English  and  Christian  populations 
under  the  sway  of  some  Asiatic  despot  on 
the  frontiers  of  our  Indian  empire,  we  shall 
admit  that  it  is  likely  the  sentiments  of  all 
Englishmen  in  India  would  be  extremely 
sensitive  on  their  behalf,  and  that  it  would 
not  be  difficult  to  get  us  to  believe  that  we 
were  called  upon  to  interfere  for  their  protec- 
tion. Certainly  any  one  who  should  try  to 
persuade  us  that  after  all  these  Englishmen 
were  nearly  as  well  off  under  the  Asiatic  and 
despotic  rule  as  many  other  people,  or  as  they 
deserved  to  be,  would  not  have  much  chance 
of. a patient  hearing  from  us. 

The  Russian  Emperor  fell  back  a little 
after  the  failure  of  his  efforts  with  Sir  Ham- 
ilton Seymour,  and  for  a while  seemed  to 
agree  with  the  English  Government  as  to  the 
necessity  of  not  embarrassing  Turkey  by 
pressing  too  severely  upon  her.  He  was  no 
doubt  seriously  disappointed  when  he  found 
that  England  would  not  go  with  him  ; and 
his  calculations  were  put  out  by  the  dis- 
covery. He  therefore  saw  himself  com- 
pelled to  act  with  a certain  moderation  while 
feeling  his  way  to  some  other  mode  of  attack. 
But  the  natural  forces  which  were  in  opera- 
tion did  not  depend  on  the  will  of  any  em- 
pire or  government  for  their  tendency. 
Nicholas  would  have  had  to  move  in  any 
case.  There  is  really  no  such  thing  in  mod- 
ern politics  as  a genuine  autocrat.  Nicholas 
of  Russia  could  no  more  afford  to  overlook 
the  evidences  of  popular  and  national  feeling 
among  his  people  than  an  English  sovereign 
could.  He  was  a despot  by  virtue  of  the 
national  will  which  he  embodied.  The  na- 
tional will  was  in  decided  antagonism  to  the 
tendencies  of  the  Ottoman  Power  in  Europe  ; 
and  afterwards  to  the  policy  which  the  Eng- 
lish Government  felt  themselves  compelled 
to  adopt  for  the  support  of  that  Power  against 
the  schemes  of  the  Emperor  of  Russia. 

There  had  long  been  going  on  a dispute 
about  the  Holy  Places  in  Palestine.  The 
claims  of  the  Greek  Church  and  those  of  the 
Latin  Church  were  in  antagonism  there. 
The  Emperor  of  Russia  was  the  protector  of 
the  Greek  Church  ; the  Kings  of  France  had 
long  had  the  Latin  Church  under  their  pro- 
tection. France  had  never  taken  our  views 
as  to  the  necessity  of  maintaining  the  Otto- 
man Power  in  Europe.  On  the  contrary,  as 
we  have  seen,  the  policy  of  England  and  that 
of  France  were  so  decidedly  opposed  at  the 
time  when  France  favored  the  independence 
of  Egypt,  and  England  would  not  hear  of  it, 
that  the  two  countries  very  nearly  came  to 
war.  Nor  did  France  really  feel  any  very 
profound  sympathy  with  the  pretensions 
which  the  Latin  monks  were  constantly  mak- 
ing in  regard  to  the  Holy  Places.  There  was 
unquestionably  downright  religious  fanati- 
cism on  the  part  of  Russia  to  back  up  the 
demands  of  the  Greek  Church  : but  we  can 
hardly  believe  that  opinion  in  France  or  in 
the  cabinets  of  French  Ministers  really  con- 
cerned itself  much  about  the  Latin  monks 
except  in  so  far  as  political  purposes  might 
be  subserved  by  paying  some  attention  to 


A HISTORY  OP  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


91 


them.  But  it  happened  somewhat  unfortu- 
nately that  the  French  Government  began  to 
be  unusually  active  in  pushing  the  Latin 
claims  just  then.  The  whole  dispute  on 
which  the  fortunes  of  Europe  seemed  for  a 
while  to  depend  was  of  a strangely  mediaeval 
character.  The  Holy  Places  to  which  the 
Latins  raised  a claim  were  the  great  Church 
in  Bethlehem  ; the  Sanctuary  of  the  Nativity, 
with  the  right  to  place  a new  star  there  (that 
which  formerly  ornamented  it  having  been 
lost) ; the  Tomb  of  the  Virgin  ; the  Stone  of 
Anointing  ; the  Seven  Arches  of  the  Virgin 
in  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  In 
the  reign  of  that  remarkably  pious,  truthful, 
and  virtuous  monarch,  Francis  the  First  of 
France,  a treaty  was  made  with  the  Sultan 
by  which  France  was  acknowledged  the 
protector  of  the  Holy  Places  in  Palestine,  and 
of  the  monks  of  the  Latin  Church  who  took 
on  themselves  the  care  of  the  sacred  monu- 
ments and  memorials.  But  the  Greek 
Church  afterwards  obtained  firmans  from  the 
Sultan  ; each  Sultan  gave  away  privileges 
very  much  as  it  pleased  him,  and  without 
taking  much  thought  of  the  manner  in  which 
his  finnan  might  affect  the  treaties  of  his  pre- 
decessors ; and  the  Greeks  claimed  on  the 
strength  of  these  concessions  that  they  had 
as  good  a right  as  the  Latins  to  take  care  of 
the  Holy  Places.  Disputes  were  always  aris- 
ing, and  of  course  these  were  aggravated  by 
the  fact  that  France  was  supposed  to  be  con- 
cerned in  the  protection  of  one  set  of  dispu- 
tants and  Russia  in  that  of  another.  The 
French  and  the  Russian  Governments  did  in 
point  of  fact  interfere  from  time- to  time  for 
the  purpose  of  making  good  their  claims. 
The  claims  at  length  came  to-  be-  identified 
with  the  States  which  respectively  protected 
them.  An  advantage  of  the  smallest  kind 
gained  by  the  Latins  was  viewed  as  an  insult 
to  Russia  ; a concession  to  the  Greeks  was  a 
snub  to  France.  The  subject  of  controversy 
seemed  trivial  and  odd  in  itself.  But  It  had 
even  in  itself  a profounder  significance  than 
many  a question  of  diplomatic  etiquette 
which  has  led  great  States  to  the  verge  of  war 
or  into  war  itself.  Mr.  Kinglake,  whose 
brilliant  history  of  the  Invasion  of  the 
Crimea  is  too  often  disfigured  by  passages  of 
solemn  and  pompous  monotony,  has  superflu- 
ously devoted  several  eloquent  pages  to  prove 
that  the  sacredness  of  association  attaching 
to  some  particular  spot  has  its  roots  in  the 
very  soil  of  human  nature.  The  custody  of 
the  Holy  Places  was  in  this  instance  a sym- 
bol of  a religious  inheritance  to  the  monastic 
disputants,  and  of  political  power  to  the  di- 
plomatists. 

It  was  Fiance  which  first  stirred  the  con- 
troversy in  the  time  just  before  the  Crimean 
War.  That  fact  is  beyond  dispute.  Lord 
John  Russell  had  hardly  come  into  office 
when  he  had  to  observe  in  writing  to  Lord 
Cowley,  our  ambassador  in  Paris,  that  “ her 
Majesty's  Government  cannot  avoid  perceiv- 
ing that  the  ambassador  of  France  at  Con- 
stantinople was  the  first  to  disturb  the  status 
quo  in  which  the  matter  rested.”  “Not,” 
Lord  John  Russell  went  on  to  say,  “ that  the 
disputes  of  the  Latin  and  Greek  Churches 
were  not  very  active,  but  without  some  po- 
litical action  on  the  part  of  France  those 
quarrels  would  never  have  troubled  the  rela- 
tions of  friendly  Powers.”  Lord  John  Rus- 
sell also  complained  that  the  French  ambas- 
sador was  the  first  to  speak  of  having  re- 
course to  force,  and  to  threaten  the  interven- 
tion of  a French  fleet.  “I  regret  to  say,” 
the  despatch  continued,  “ that  this  evil  ex- 
ample has  been  partly  followed  by  Russia.” 
The  French  Government  were  indeed  un- 
usually active  at  that  time.  The  French 
ambassador,  M.  de  Lavalette,  is  said  to  have 
threatened  that  a French  fleet  should  appear 
off  Jaffa,  and  even  hinted  at  a French  occu- 
pation of  Jerusalem,  “ when,”  as  he  signifi- 
cantly put  it,  “ we  should  have  all  the  sanc- 
tuaries.” One  French  army  occupying 
Rome  and  another  occupying  Jerusalem 


would  have  left  the  world  in  no  doubt  as  to 
the  supremacy  of  France.  The  cause  of  all 
this  energy  is  not  far  to  seek.  The  Prince 
President  had  only  just  succeeded  in  procur- 
ing himself  to  be  installed  as  Emperor  ; and 
he  was  very  anxious  to  distract  the  attention 
of  Frenchman  from  domestic  politics  to  some 
showy  and  startling  policy  abroad.  He  was 
in  quest  of  a policy  of  adventure.  This  con- 
troversy between  the  Church  of  the  East  and 
the  Church  of  the  West  tempted  him  into  ac- 
tivity as  one  that  seemed  likely  enough  to 
give  him  an  opportunity  of  displaying  the 
power  of  France  and  of  the  new  system  with- 
out any  very  great  danger  or  responsibility. 
Technically  therefore  we  are  entitled  to  lay 
the  blame  of  disturbing  the  peace  of  Europe 
in  the  first  instance  on  the  Emperor  of  the 
French.  But  while  we  must  condemn  the  rest- 
less and  self-interested  spirit  which  thus  set 
itself  to  stir  up  disturbance,  we  cannot  help 
seeing  that  the  quarrel  must  have  come  at 
some"  time  even  if  the  'plebiscite  had  never 
been  invited,  and  a new  Emperor  had  never 
been  placed  upon  the  throne  of  France.  The 
Emperor  of  Russia  had  made  up  his  mind 
that  the  time  had  come  to  divide  the  property 
of  the  sick  man,  and  he  was  not  likely  to  re- 
main long  without  an  opportunity  of  quarrel- 
ling with  any  one  who  stood  at  the  side  of  the 
sick  man’s  bed  and  seemed  to  constitute  him- 
self a protector  of  the  sick  man’s  Interests. 

The  key  of  the  whole  controversy  out  of 
which  the  Eastern  war  arose,  and  out  of  which 
indeed  all  subsequent  complications  in  the 
East  came  as  well,  was  said  to  be  found  in 
the  clause  of  theTreatyof  Kutchuk-Kainard- 
ji.  During  the  negotiations  for  peace  that 
took  place  in  Vienna  while  the  Crimean  War 
was  yet  going  on,  the  assembled  plenipoten- 
tiaries declared  that  the  whole  dispute  was 
owing  to  a misinterpretation  of  a clause  in 
this  unfortunate  treaty.  In  a time  much 
nearer  to  our  own,  the; discussion  on  the  same 
clause  in  the  same  treaty  was  renewed  with 
all  the  old  earnestness,  and  with  the  same 
difference  of  interpretation.  It  may  not  per- 
haps give  an  uninitiated1  reader  any  very  ex- 
alted opinion  of  the  utility  and  beauty  of  dip- 
lomatic arrangements,  to  hear  that  disputes 
covering  more  than  a century  of  time,  and 
causing  at  least  two  great  wars,  arose  out  of 
the  impossibility  of  reconciling  two  different 
interpretations  of  the  meaning  of  two  or  three 
lines  of  a treaty.  The  American  civil  war 
was  said  with  much  justice  to  have  been 
fought  to  obtain  a definition  of  the  limits  of 
the  rights  of  the  separate  States  as  laid  down 
in  the  constitution  ; the  Crimean  War  was 
apparently  fought  to  obtain  a satisfactory  and 
final  definition  of  the  seventh  clause  of  the 
Treaty  of  Kainardji ;.  and  it  did  not  fulfil  its 
purpose.  The  historic  value  therefore  of 
this  seventh  clause  may  in  one  sense  be  con- 
sidered greater  than  that  of  the  famous  dis- 
puted words  which  provoked  the  censure  of 
the  Jansenists  and  the  immortal  letters  of 
Pascal. 

The  Treaty  of  Kutchuk-Kainardji  was  made 
in  1774,  between  the  Ottoman  Porte  and 
Catherine  II.  of  Russia.  On  sea  and  land 
the  arms  of  the  great  Empress  had  been  vic- 
torious, Turkey  was  beaten  to  her  knees. 
She  had  to  give  up  Azof  and  Taganrog  to 
Russia,  and  to  declare  the  Crimea  indepen- 
dent of  the  Ottoman  empire  ; an  event  which 
it  is  almost  needless  to  say  was  followed  not 
many  years  after  by  the  Russians  taking  the 
Crimea  for  themselves  and  making  it  a prov- 
ipce  of  Catherine’s  empire.  The  Treaty  of 
Kainardji,  as  it  is  usually  called;  was  that 
which  made  the  arrangements  for  peace. 
When  it  exacted  from  Turkey  such  heavy 
penalties  in  the  shape  of  cession  of  territory, 
it  was  hardly  supposed  that  one  seemingly 
insignificant  clause  was  destined  to  threaten 
the  very  existence  of  the  Turkish  empire. 
The  treaty  bore  date  July  10,  1774  ; and  it 
was  made,  so  to  speak,  in  the  tent  of  the  vic- 
tor. The  seventh  clause  declared  that  the 
Sublime  Pbrte  promised  “ to  protect  con- 


stantly the  Christian  religion  and  its 
churches  ; and  also  to  allow  the  minister  of 
the  Imperial  Court  of  Russia  to  make  on  all 
occasions  representations  as  well  in  favor  of 
the  new  church  in  Constantinople,  of  which 
mention  will  be  made  in  the  fourteenth  arti- 
cle, as  in  favor  of  those  who  officiate  therein, 
promising  to  take  such  representations  into 
due  consideration  as  being  made  by  a confi 
dential  functionary  of  a neighboring  and  sin 
cerely  friendly  Power.”  Not  much  possibil 
ity  of  misunderstanding  about  these  words, 
one  might  feel  inclined  to  say.  We  turn  then 
to  the  fourteenth  article  alluded  to,  in  order 
to  discover  if  in  its  wording  lies  the  perplex- 
ity of  meaning  which  led  to  such  momentous 
and  calamitous  results.  We  find  that  by  this 
article  it  is  simply  permitted  to  the  Court  of 
Russia  to  build  a public  church  of  the  Greek 
rite  in  the  Galata  quarter  of  Constantinople, 
in  addition  to  the  chapel  built  in  the  house  of 
the  minister  ; and  it  is  declared  that  the  new 
church  “ shall  be  always  under  the  protection 
of  the  ministers  of  the  (Russian)  empire,  and 
shielded  from  all  obstruction  and  all  dam- 
age.” Here,  then,  we  seem  to  have  two 
clauses  of  the  simplest  meaning  and  by  no 
means  of  first-class  importance.  The  latter 
clause  allows  Russia  to  build  a new  church 
in  Constantinople ; the  former  allows  the 
Russian  minister  to  make  representations  to 
the  Porte  on  behalf  of  the  church  and  of 
those  who  officiate  in  it.  What  difference  of 
opinion,  it  may  be  asked,  could  possibly 
arise  ? The  cliff erence  was  this  : Russia 
claimed  a right  of  protectorate  over  all  the 
Christians  of  the  Greek  Church  in  Turkey  as 
the  consequence  of  the  seventh  clause  of  the 
treaty.  She  insisted  that  when  Turkey  gave 
her  a right  to  interfere  on  behalf  of  the  wor- 
shippers in  one  particular  church,  the  same 
right  extended  so  far  as  to  cover  all  the  wor- 
shippers of  the  same  denomination  in  every 
part  of  the  Ottoman  dominions.  The  great 
object  of  Russia  throughout  all  the  negotia- 
tions that  preceded  the  Crimean  War  was  to 
obtain  from  the  Porte  an  admission  of  the  ex- 
istence of  such  a protectorate.  Such  an  ac- 
knowledgment would,  in  fact,  have  made  the 
Emperor  of  Russia  the  patron  and  all  but  the 
ruler  of  by  far  the  larger  proportion  of  the 
populations  of  European  Turkey.  The  Sul- 
tan would  no  longer  have  been  master  in 
his  own  dominions.  The  Greek  Christians 
would  naturally  have  regarded  the  Russian 
Emperor’s  right  of  intervention  on  their  be- 
half as  constituting  a protectorate  far  more 
powerful  than  the  nominal  rule  of  the  Sultan. 
They  would  have  known  that  the  ultimate 
decision  of  any  dispute  in  which  they  were 
concerned  rested  with  the  Emperor,  and  not 
with  the  Sultan  ; and  they  would  soon  have 
come  to  look  upon  the  Emperor,  and  not  the 
Sultan,  as  their  actual  sovereign. 

Now  it  does  not  seem  likely  on  the  face  of 
things  that  any  ruler  of  a state  would  have  con- 
sented to  hand  over  to  a more  powerful  foreign 
monarch  such  a right  over  the  great  majority 
of  his  subjects.  Still,  if  Turkey,  driven  to 
her  last  defences,  had  no  alternative  but  to 
make  such  a concession,  the  Emperors  of 
Russia  could  not  be  blamed  for  insisting  that 
it  should  be  carried  out.  The  terms  of  the 
article  in  the  treaty  itself  certainly  do  not 
seem  to  admit  of  such  a construction.  But 
for  the  views  always  advocated  by  Mr.  Glad- 
stone, we  should  say  it  was  self-evident  that 
the  article  never  had  any  such  meaning. 
We  cannot,  however,  dismiss  the  argument 
of  such  a man  as  Mr.  Gladstone  as  if  it  were 
unworthy  of  consideration,  or  say  that  an  in- 
terpretation is  obviously  erroneous  which  he 
has  deliberately  and  often  declared  to  be  ac- 
curate. We  may  as  well  mention  here  at 
once  that  Mr.  Gladstone  rests  his  argument 
on  the  first  line  of  the  famous  article.  The 
promise  of  the  Sultan,  he  contends,  to  pro- 
tect constantly  the  Christian  religion  and  its 
churches,  is  an  engagement  distinct  in  itself, 
and  disconnected  from  the  engagement  that 
follows  in  the  same  clause,  and  which  refers 


92 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES; 


to  the  new  building  and  its  ministrants. 
The  Sultan  engages  to  protect  the  Christian 
churches  ; and  with  whom  does  he  enter  into 
this  engagement  ? With  the  Sovereign  of 
Russia.  Why  does  he  make  this  engage- 
ment? Because  he  has  been  defeated  by 
Russia  and  compelled  to  accept  terms  of 
peace  ; and  one  of  the  conditions  on  which 
lie  is  admitted  to  peace  is  his  making  this  en- 
gagement. How  does  he  make  the  engage- 
ment ? By  an  article  in  a treaty  agreed  to 
between  him  and  the  Sovereign  of  Russia. 
But  if  a state  enters  into  treaty  engagement 
with  another  that  it  will  do  a certain  thing, 
it  is  clear  that  the  other  state  must  have  a 
special  right  of  remonstrance  and  of  repre- 
sentation if  the  thing  be  not  done.  Therefore 
Mr.  Gladstone  argues  that  as  the  Sultan  made 
a special  treaty  with  Russia  to  protect  the 
Christians,  he  gave  in  the  very  nature  of 
things  a special  right  to  Russia  to  complain 
if  the  protection  was  not  given.  We  are  far 
from  denying  that  there  is  force  in  the  argu- 
ment ; and  it  is  at  all  events  worthy  of  being 
recorded  for  its  mere  historical  importance. 
But  Mr.  Gladstone’s  was  certainly  not  the 
European  interpretation  of  the  clause  ; nor 
does  it  seem  to  us  the  interpretation  that  his- 
tory will  accept.  Lord  John  Russell,  as  we 
have  seen,  made  a somewhat  unlucky  admis- 
sion that  the  claims  of  Russia  to  a protectorate 
were  “ prescribed  by  duty  and  sanctioned  by 
treaty.”  But  this  admission  seems  rather  to 
have  been  the  result  of  inadvertence  or  heed- 
lessness, than  of  any  deliberate  intention  to 
recognize  the  particular  claim  involved.  The 
admission  was  afterwards  made  the  occasion 
of  many  a severe  attack  upon  Lord  John  Rus- 
sell by  Mr.  Disraeli  and  other  leading  mem- 
bers of  the  Opposition.  Assuredly  Lord  John 
Russell’s  admission,  if  it  is  really  to  be  re- 
garded as  such,  was  not  endorsed  by  the  Eng- 
lish Government.  Whenever  we  find  Russia 
putting  the  claim  into  plain  words,  we  And 
England,  through  her  ministers,  refusing  to 
give  it  their  acknowledgment.  During  the 
discussions  before  the  Crimean  War,  Lord 
Clarendon,  our  Foreign  Secretary,  wrote  to 
Lord  Stratford  de  Redcliffe  a letter  embody- 
ing the  views  of  the  English  Government  on 
the  claim.  No  sovereign,  Lord  Clarendon 
says,  having  a due  regard  for  his  own  dignity 
and  independence,  could  admit  proposals 
which  conferred  upon  a foreign  and  more 
powerful  sovereign  a right  of  protection  over 
his  own  subjects.  “ If  such  a concession 
were  made,  the  result,”  as  Lord  Clarendon 
pointed  out,  “would  be  that  fourteen  mil- 
lions of  Greeks  would  henceforward  regard 
the  Emperor  as  their  supreme  protector,  and 
their  allegiance  to  the  Sultan  would  be  little 
more  than  nominal,  while  his  own  indepen- 
dence would  dwindle  into  vassalage.  ” Diplo- 
macy, therefore,  was  powerless  to  do  good 
during  all  the  protracted  negotiations  that  set 
in,  for  the  plain  reason  that  the  only  object 
of  the  Emperor  of  Russia  in  entering  upon 
negotiation  at  all  was  one  which  the  other 
European  Powers  regarded  as  absolutely  in- 
admissible. 

The  dispute  about  the  Holy  Places  was 
easily  settled.  The  Porte  cared  very  little 
about  the  matter,  and  was  willing  enough  to 
come  to  any  fair  terms  by  which  the  whole 
controversy  could  be  got  rid  of.  But  the 
demands  of  Russia  went  on  just  as  before. 
Prince  Mentschikoif,  a maD  of  the  Potemkin 
school,  fierce,  rough,  and  unable  or  unwilling 
to  control  his  temper,  was  sent  with  demands 
to  Constantinople  ; and  his  very  manner  of 
making  the  demands  seemed  as  if  it  were 
taken  up  for  the  purpose  of  ensuring  their 
rejection.  If  the  envoy  fairly  represented 
the  sovereign,  the  demands  must  have  been 
so  conveyed  with  the  deliberate  intention  of 
immediately  and  irresistibly  driving  the 
Turks  to  reject  every  proposition  coming 
from  such  a negotiator.  Mentschikoif 
brought  his  proposals  with  him  cut  and  dry 
in  the  form  of  a convention  which  he  called 
upon  Turkey  to  accept  without  more  ado. 


In  other  words  he  put  a pistol  at  Turkey’s  I 
head  and  told  her  to  sign  at  once  or  else  he 
would  pull  the  trigger.  Turkey  refused, 
and  Prince  Mentschikoif  withdrew  in  real 
or  affected  rage,  and  presently  the  Emperor 
Nicholas  sent  two  divisions  of  his  army 
across  the  Pruth  to  take  possession  of  the 
Danubian  principalities. 

Diplomacy,  however,  did  not  give  in  even 
then.  The  Emperor  announced  that  he  had 
occupied  the  principalities  not  as  an  act  of 
war,  but  with  the  view  of  obtaining  material 
guarantees  for  the  concession  of  the  demands 
which  Turkey  had  already  declared  that  she 
would  not  concede.  The  English  Govern- 
ment advised  the  Porte  not  to  treat  the  occu- 
pation as  an  act  of  war,  although  fully  ad- 
mitting that  it  was  strictly  a casus  belli,  and 
that  Turkey  would  have  been  amply  justified 
in  meeting  it  by  an  armed  resistance  if  it 
were  prudent  for  her  to  do  so.  It  would  of 
course  have  been  treated  as  war  by  any 
strong  Power.  We  might  well  have  retorted 
upon  Russia  the  harsh  but  not  wholly  unjus- 
tifiable language  she  had  employed  towards 
us  when  we  seized  possession  of  material 
guarantees  from  the  Greek  Government  in 
the  harbor  of  the  Piraeus.  In  our  act,  how- 
ever, there  was  less  of  that  which  constitutes 
war  than  in  the  arbitrary  conduct  of  Russia. 
Greece  did  not  declare  that  our  demands  were 
such  as  she  could  not  admit  in  principle. 
She  did  admit  most  of  them  in  principle,  but 
was  only,  as  it  seemed  to  our  Government, 
or  at  least  to  Lord  Palmerston,  trying  to 
evade  an  actual  settlement.  There  was  noth- 
ing to  go  to  war  about  ; and  our  seizure  of 
the  ships,  objectionable  as  it  was,  might  be 
described  as  only  a way  of  getting  hold  of  a 
material  guarantee  for  the  discharge  of  a debt 
which  was  not  in  principle  disputed.  But  in 
the  dispute  between  Russia  and  Turkey  the 
claim  was  rejected  altogether  ; it  was  declar- 
ed intolerable  ; its  principle  was  absolutely 
repudiated,  and  any  overt  act  on  the  part  of 
Russia  must  therefore  have  had  for  its  object 
to  compel  Turkey  to  submit  to  a demand 
which  she  would  yield  to  force  alone.  This 
is  of  course  in  the  very  spirit  of  war  ; and  if 
Turkey  had  been  a stronger  Power,  she 
would  never  have  dreamed  of  meeting  it  in 
any  other  way  than  by  an  armed  resistance. 
She  was,  however,  strongly  advised  b3r  Eng- 
land and  other  Powers  to  adopt  a moderate 
course  ; and,  in  fact,  throughout  the  whole 
of  the  negotiations  she  showed  a remarkable 
self-control  and  a dignified  courtesy  which 
must  sometimes  have  been  very  vexing  to 
her  opponent.  Diplomacy  went  to  work 
again,  and  a Vienna  note  was  concocted 
which  Russia  at  once  offered  to  accept.  The 
four  great  Powers  who  were  carrying  on  the 
business  of  mediation  were  at  first  quite 
charmed  with  the  note,  with  the  readiness  of 
Russia  to  accept  it,  and  with  themselves  ; 
and  but  for  the  interposition  of  Lord  Strat- 
ford de  Redcliffe  it  seems  highly  probable 
that  it  would  have  been  agreed  to  by  all  the 
parties  concerned.  Lord  Stratford,  however, 
saw  plainly  that  the  note  was  a virtual  con- 
cession to  Russia  of  all  that  she  specially  de- 
sired to  have,  and  all  that  Europe  was  un- 
willing to  concede  to  her.  The  great  object 
of  Russia  was  to  obtain  an  acknowledgment, 
however  vague  or  covert,  of  her  protectorate 
over  the  Christians  of  the  Greek  Church  in 
the  Sultan’s  dominions  ; and  the  Vienna  note 
was  so  constructed  as  to  affirm,  much  rather 
than  to  deny,  the  claim  which  Russia  had  so 
long  been  setting  up.  Assuredly  such  a note 
could  at  some  future  time  have  been  brought, 
out  in  triumph  by  Russia  as  an  overwhelm- 
ing evidence  of  the  European  recognition  of 
such  a protectorate. 

Let  us  make  this  a little  more  plain.  Sup- 
pose the  question  at  issue  were  as  to  the  pay- 
ment of  a tribute  claimed  by  one  prince 
from  another.  The  one  had  been  always  in- 
sisting that  the  other  was  his  vassal,  bound 
to  pay  him  tribute  ; the  other  always  repudi- 
ated the  claim  in  principle.  This  was4the 


subject  of  dispute.  After  a while  the  ques- 
tion is  left  to  arbitration,  and  the  arbitrators, 
without  actually  declaring  in  so  many  words 
that  the  claim  to  the  tribute  is  established, 
yet  go  so  far  as  to  direct  the  payment  of  a 
certain  sum  of  money,  and  do  not  introduce 
a single  word  to  show  that  in  their  opinion 
the  original  claim  was  unjust  in  principle. 
Would  not  the  claimant  of  the  tribute  be 
fully  entitled  in  after  years,  if  any  new  doubt 
of  his  claim  were  raised,  to  appeal  to  this 
arbitration  as  confirming  it  ? Would  he  not 
be  entitled  to  say,  ‘ ‘ The  dispute  was  about 
my  right  to  tribute.  Here  is  a document 
awarding  to  me  the  payment  of  a certain 
sum,  and  not  containing  a word  to  show 
that  the  arbitrators  disputed  the  principle  of 
my  claim.  Is  it  possible  to  construe  that 
otherwise  than  as  a recognition  of  my 
claim  ?”  We  certainly  cannot  think  it  would 
have  been  otherwise  regarded  by  any  impar- 
tial mind.  The  very  readiness  with  which 
Russia  consented  to  accept  the  Vienna  note 
ought  to  have  taught  its  framers  that  Russia 
found  all  her  account  in  its  vague  and  am- 
biguous language.  The  Prince  Consort  said 
it  was  a trap  laid  by  Russia  through  Austria  ; 
and  it  seems  hardly  possible  to  regard  it  now 
in  any  other  light. 

The  Turkish  Government,  therefore,  act- 
ing under  the  advice  of  Lord  Stratford  de 
Redcliffe,  our  ambassador  to  Constantinople, 
who  had  returned  to  his  post  after  a long  ab- 
sence, declined  to  accept  the  Vienna  note  un- 
less with  considerable  modifications.  Lord 
Stratford  de  Redcliffe  showed  great  acute- 
ness and  force  of  character  throughout  all 
these  negotiations.  A reader  of  Mr.  King- 
lake’s  history  is  sometimes  apt  to  become  nau- 
seated by  the  absurd  pompousness  with  which 
the  historian  overlays  his  descriptions  of 
“ the  great  Eltchi,”  as  he  is  pleased  to  call 
him,  and  is  inclined  to  wish  that  the  great 
Eltchi  could  have  imparted  some  of  his  own 
sober  gravity  and  severe  simplicity  of  style  to 
his  adulator.  Mr.  Kinglake  writes  of  Lord 
Stratford  de  Redcliffe  as  if  he  were  describ- 
ing the  all- compelling  movements  of  some  di- 
vinity or  providence.  A devoted  imperial 
historian  would  have  made  himself  ridicu- 
lous by  writing  of  the  Great  Napoleon  at  the 
height  of  his  power  in  language  of  such  in- 
flated mysticism  as  this  educated  English- 
man has  allowed  liimsell  to  employ  when  de- 
scribing the  manner  in  which  our  ambassador 
to  Constantinople  did  his  duty  during  the 
days  before  the  Crimean  War.  But  the  ex- 
traordinary errors  of  taste  and  good  sense 
into  which  Mr.  Kinglake  occasionally  de- 
scends cannot  prevent"  us  from  doing  justice 
to  the  keen  judgment  and  the  inflexible  will 
which  Lord  Stratford  displayed  during  this 
critical  time.  He  saw  the  fatal  defect  of  the 
note  which,  prepared  in  Paris,  had  been 
brought  to  its  supposed  perfection  at  Vienna, 
and  had  there  received  the  adhesion  of  the 
English  Government  along  with  that  of  the 
governments  of  the  other  Great  Powers  en- 
gaged in  the  conference.  A hint  from  Lord 
Stratford  made  the  Ministers  of  the  Porte 
consider  it  with  suspicious  scrutiny,  and 
they  too  saw  its  weakness  and  its  conscious 
or  unconscious  treachery.  They  declared 
that  unless  certain  modifications  were  intro- 
duced they  would  not  accept  the  note.  The 
reader  will  at  first  think  perhaps  that  some 
of  these  modifications  were  mere  splittings 
of  hairs,  and  diplomatic,  worse  even  than 
lawyer-like,  quibbles.  But  in  truth  the  alter- 
ations demanded  were  of  the  greatest  impor- 
tance for  Turkey.  The  Porte  had  to  think, 
not  of  the  immediate  purpose  of  the  note, 
but  of  the  objects  it  might  be  made  to  serve 
afterwards.  It  contained,  for  instance, 
words  which  declared  that  the  Government 
of  his  Majesty  the  Sultan  would  remain 
“ faithful  to  the  letter  and  the  spirit  of  the 
stipulations  of  the  Treaties  of  Kainardji  and 
of  Adrianople,  relative  to  the  protection  of 
the  Christian  religion.”  These  words,  in  a 
note  drawn  up  for  the  purpose  of  satisfying 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


93 


the  Emperor  of  Russia,  could  not  but  be  un- 
derstood as  recognizing  the  interpretation  of 
the  Treaty  of  Kainardjt  on  which  Russia  has 
always  insisted.  The  Porte  therefore  pro- 
posed to  strike  out  these  words  and  substi- 
tute the  following  : “ To  the  stipulations  of 
the  Treaty  of  Kainardji,  confirmed  by  that 
of  Adrianople,  relative  to  the  protection  by 
the  Sublime  Porte  of  the  Christian  religion.” 
By  these  words  the  Turkish  ministers  quietly 
affirm  that  the  only  protectorate  exercised 
over  the  Christians  of  Turkey  is  that  of  the 
Sultan  of  Turkey  himself.  The  difference  is 
simply  that  between  a claim  conceded  and  a 
claim  repudiated.  The  Russian  Government 
refused  to  accept  the  modifications  ; and  in 
arguing  against  them,  the  Russian  minister, 
Count  Nesselrode,  made  it  clear  to  the  English 
Government  that  Lord  Stratford  de  Red- 
cliff  e was  right  when  he  held  the  note  to  be 
full  of  weakness  and  of  error.  For  the  Rus- 
sian minister  argued  against  the  modifications 
on  the  very  ground  that  they  denied  to  the 
claims  of  Russia  just  that  satisfaction  that 
the  statesmanship  and  the  public  opinion  of 
Europe  had  always  agreed  to  refuse.  The 
Prince  Consort’s  expression  was  appropri- 
ate : the  Western  Powers  had  nearly  been 
caught  in  a trap. 

From  that  time  all  hopes  of  peace  were 
over.  There  were,  to  be  sure,  other  negotia- 
tions still.  A ghastly  semblance  of  faith  in 
the  possibility  of  a peaceful  arrangement  was 
kept  up  for  a while  on  both  sides.  Little 
plans  of  adjustment  were  tinkered  up  and 
tried,  and  fell  to  pieces  the  moment  they 
were  tried.  It  is  not  necessary  for  us  to  de- 
scribe them.  Not  many  persons  put  any 
faith  or  even  professed  any  interest  in  them. 
They  were  conducted  amid  the  most  ener- 
getic preparations  for  war  on  both  sides. 
Our  troops  were  moving  towards  Malta  ; the 
streets  of  London,  of  Liverpool,  of  Southamp- 
ton, and  other  towns,  were  ringing  with  the 
cheers  of  enthusiastic  crowds  gathered  togeth- 
er to  watch  the  marching  of  troops  destined  for 
the  East.  Turkey  had  actually  declared  war 
against  Russia.  People  now  were  anxious 
rather  to  see  how  the  war  would  open  be- 
tween Russia  and  the  allies  than  when  it 
would  open  : the  time  when  could  evidently 
only  be  a question  of  a few  days  ; the  way 
how  was  a matter  of  more  peculiar  interest. 
We  had  known  so  little  of  war  for  nearly 
forty  years,  that  added  to  all  the  other  emo- 
tions which  the  coming  of  battle  must  bring 
was  the  mere  feeling  of  curiosity  as  to  the 
sensation  produced  by  a state  of  war.  It 
was  an  abstraction  to  the  living  generation — 
a thing  to  read  of  and  discuss  and  make 
poetry  and  romance  out  of  ; but  they  could 
not  yet  realize  what  itself  was  like. 

CHAPTER  XXYI. 

WHERE  WAS  LORD  PALMERSTON? 

Meantime  where  was  Lord  Palmerston? 
He  of  all  men,  one  would  think,  must  have 
been  pleased  with  the  turn  things  were  tak- 
ing. He  had  had  from  the  beginning  little 
faith  in  any  issue  of  the  negotiations  but  war. 
Probably  he  did  not  really  wish  for  any  other 
result.  We  are  well  inclined  to  agree  with 
Mr.  Kinglake  that  of  all  the  members  of  the 
Cabinet  he  alone  clearly  saw  liis  way,  and 
was  satisfied  with  the  prospect.  But  accord- 
ing to  the  supposed  nature  of  his  office  he 
had  now  nothing  to  do  with  the  war  or  with 
foreign  affairs  except  as  every  member  of  the 
Cabinet  shfres  the  responsibilities  of  the 
whole  body.  He  had  apparently  about  as 
much  to  do  with  the  war  as  the  Postmaster- 
General,  or  the  Chancellor  for  the  Duchy  of 
Lancaster,  might  have.  He  had  accepted  the 
office  of  Home  Secretary  ; he  had  declared 
that  he  did  not  choose  to  be  Foreign  Secre- 
tary any  more.  He  affirmed  that  he  wanted 
to  learn  something  about  home  affairs,  and 
to  get  to  understand  his  countrymen  ; and  so 
forth.  He  was  really  very  busy  all  this  time 
in  his  new  duties.  Lord  Palmerston  was  a 
remarkably  efficient  and  successful  Home 


Secretary.  His  unceasing  activity  loved  to 
show  itself  in  whatever  department  he  might 
be  called  upon  to  occupy.  He  brought  to  the 
somewhat  prosaic  duties  of  his  new  office 
not  only  all  the  virile  energy  but  also  all  the 
enterprise  which  he  had  formerly  shown  in 
managing  revolutions  and  dictating  to  foreign 
courts.  The  ticket-of-leave  system  dates 
from  the  time  of  his  administration.  Our 
transportation  system  had  broken  down,  for 
in  fact  the  colonies  would  stand  it  no  longer, 
and  it  fell  to  Lord  Palmerston  to  find  some- 
thing to  put  in  its  place  ; and  the  plan  of 
granting  tickets-of-leave  to  convicts  who  had 
shown  that  they  were  capable  of  regeneration 
was  the  outcome  of  the  necessity  and  of  his 
administration.  The  measures  to  abate  the 
smoke  nuisance  by  compelling  factories  un- 
der penalties  to  consume  their  own  smoke,  is 
also  the  offspring  of  Palmerston’s  activity  in 
the  Home  Office.  The  Factory  Acts  were 
extended  by  him.  He  went  energetically  to 
work  in  the  shutting  up  of  graveyards  in  the 
metropolis  ; and  in  a letter  to  his  brother  he 
declared  that  he  should  like  to  “ put  down 
beershops,  and  let  shopkeepers  sell  beer  like 
oil,  and  vinegar,  and  treacle,  to  be  carried 
home  and  drunk  with  wives  and  children.” 

This  little  project  is  worthy  of  notice  be- 
cause it  illustrates  more  fairly  perhaps  than 
some  far  greater  plan  might  do  at  once  the 
strength  and  the  weakness  of  Palmerston’s 
intelligence.  He  could  not  see  why  every- 
thing should  not  be  done  in  a plain  straight- 
forward way,  and  why  the  arrangements  that 
were  good  for  the  sale  of  one  thing  might 
not  be  good  also  for  the  sale  of  another.  He 
did  not  stop  to  inquire  whether  as  a matter  of 
fact  beer  is  a commodity  at  all  like  oil,  and 
vinegar,  and  treacle  ; whether  the  same  con- 
sequences follow  the  drinking  of  beer  and  the 
consumption  of  treacle.  His  critics  said  that 
he  was  apt  to  manage  his  foreign  affairs  on 
the  same  rough-and-ready  principle.  If  a 
system  suited  England,  why  should  it  not 
suit  all  other  places  as  well  ? If  treacle  may 
be  sold  safely  without  any  manner  of  au- 
thoritative regulation,  why  not  beer  ? The 
answer  to  the  latter  question  is  plain — be- 
cause treacle  is  not  beer.  So,  people  said, 
with  Palmerston’s  constitutional  projects  for 
every  place.  Why  should  not  that  which 
suits  England  suit  also  Spain  ? Because,  to 
begin  with,  a good  many  people  urged,  Spain 
is  not  England. 

There  was  one  department  of  his  duties  in 
which  Palmerston  was  acquiring  a new  and 
a somewhat  odd  reputation.  That  was  in 
his  way  of  answering  deputations  and  letters. 
“ The  mere  routine  business  of  the  Home 
Office,”  Palmerston  writes  to  his  brother, 
“ as  far  as  that  consists  in  daily  correspond- 
ence, is  far  lighter  than  that  of  the  Foreign 
Office.  But  during  a session  of  Parliament 
the  whole  time  of  the  Secretary  of  State,  up 
to  the  time  when  he  must  go  to  the  House  of 
Commons,  is  taken  up  by  deputations  of  all 
kinds,  and  interviews  with  members  of  Par- 
liament, militia  colonels,  etc.”  Lord  Palm- 
erston was  always  civil  and  cordial ; he  was 
full  of  a peculiar  kind  of  fresh  common 
sense,  and  always  ready  to  apply  it  to  any 
subject  whatever.  He  could  at  any  time  say 
some  racy  thing  which  set  the  public  won- 
dering and  laughing.  He  gave  something 
like  a shock  to  the  Presbytery  of  Edinburgh 
when  they  wrote  to  him  through  the  moder- 
ator to  ask  whether  a national  fast  ought  not 
to  be  appointed  in  consequence  of  the  appear- 
ance of  cholera.  Lord  Palmerston  gravely 
admonished  the  Presbytery  that  the  Maker 
of  the  universe  had  appointed  certain  laws  of 
nature  for  the  planet  on  which  we  live,  and 
that  the  weal  or  woe  of  mankind  depends  on 
the  observance  of  those  laws — one  of  them 
connecting  health  “ with  the  absence  of  those 
noxious  exhalations  which  proceed  from 
overcrowded  human  beings,  or  from  decom- 
posing substances,  whether  animal  or  vegeta- 
ble.” He  therefore  recommended  that  the 
purification  of  towns  and  cities  should  be 


more  strenuously  carried  on,  and  remarked 
that  the  causes  and  sources  of  contagion,  if 
allowed  to  remain,  “ will  infallibly  bi'eed 
pestilence  and  be  fruitful  in  death,  in  spite 
of  all  the  prayers  and  fastings  of  a united  but 
inactive  nation.”  When  Lord  Stanley  of  Al- 
derley  applied  to  Lord  Palmerston  for  a spe- 
cial permission  for  a deceased  dignitary  of  a 
church  to  be  buried  under  the  roof  of  the  sa- 
cred building,  the  Home  Secretary  declined  to 
accede  to  the  request  in  a letter  that  might 
have  come  from,  or  might  have  delighted, 
Sydney  Smith.  “ What  special  connection 
is  there  between  church  dignities  and  the 
privilege  of  being  decomposed  under  the  feet 
of  survivors  ? Do  you  seriously  mean  to  im- 
ply that  a soul  is  more  likely  to  go  to  heaven 
because  the  body  which  it  inhabited  lies  de- 
composing under  the  pavement  of  a church 
instead  of  being  placed  in  a church- 
yard ? . . . England  is,  I believe,  the 

only  country  in  which  in  these  days  people 
accumulate  putrefying  dead  bodies  amid  the 
dwellings  of  the  living  ; and  as  to  burying 
bodies  uuder  thronged  churches,  you  might 
as  well  put  them  under  libraries,  drawing- 
rooms, and  dining-rooms.” 

Lord  Palmerston  did  not  see  what  a very 
large  field  of  religious  and  philosophical  con- 
troversy he  opened  up  by  some  of  his  argu- 
ments, both  as  to  the  fasting  and  as  to  the 
burial  in  churchyards.  He  only  saw,  for  the 
moment,  what  appeared  to  him  the  healthy 
common-sense  aspect  of  the  position  he 
had  taken  up,  and  did  not  think  or  care  about 
what  other  positions  he  might  be  surrender- 
ing by  the  very  act.  He  had  not  a poetic  or 
philosophic  mind.  In  clearing  his  intelli- 
gence from  all  that  he  would  have  called  prej- 
udice or  superstition,  he  had  cleared  out 
also  much  of  the  deeper  sympathetic  faculty 
which  enables  one  man  to  understand  the 
feelings  and  get  at  the  springs  of  conduct  in 
the  breasts  of  other  men.  No  one  can  doubt 
that  his  jaunty  way  of  treating  grave  and  dis- 
puted subjects  offended  many  pure  and  sim- 
ple minds.  Yet  it  was  a mistake  to  suppose 
that  mere  levity  dictated  his  way  of  dealing 
with  the  prejudices  of  others.  He  had  often 
given  the  question  his  deepest  attention,  and 
come  to  a conclusion  with  as  much  thought 
a3  his  temperament  would  have  allowed  to 
any  subject.  The  difference  between  him 
and  graver  men  was  that  when  he  had  come 
to  a conclusion  seriously,  he  loved  to  express 
his  views  humorously.  He  resembled  in  this 
respect  some  of  the  greatest  and  the  most 
earnest  men  of  his  time.  Count  Cavour  de- 
lighted in  jocose  and  humorous  answers  ; so 
did  President  Lincoln  ; so  at  one  period  of 
his  public  career  did  Prince  Bismarck.  But 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  Palmerston  often 
made  enemies  by  his  seeming  levity  when 
another  man  could  easily  have  made  friends 
by  saying  just  the  same  thing  in  grave  words. 
The  majority  of  the  House  of  Commons  liked 
him  because  he  amused  them  and  made  them 
laugh  ; and  they  thought  no  more  of  the 
matter. 

But  the  war  is  now  fairly  launched  ; and 
Palmerston  is  to  all  appearance  what  would 
be  vulgarly  called  “out  of  the  swim.” 
Every  eye  was  turned  to  him.  He  was  like 
Pitt  standing  up  on  one  of  the  back  benches 
to  support  the  administration  of  Addington. 
For  years  he  had  been  identified  with  the 
Foreign  Office,  and  with  that  sort  of  foreign 
policy  which  would  seem  best  suited  to  the 
atmosphere  of  war  ; and  now  war  is  on  foot, 
and  Palmerston  is  in  the  Home  Office  pleas- 
antly “ chaffing”  militia  colonels  and  making 
sensitive  theologians  angry  by  the  flippancy 
of  his  replies.  Perhaps  there  was  something 
flattering  to  Palmerston's  feeling  of  self-love 
in  the  curious  wonder  with  which  people 
turned  their  eyes  upon  him  during  all  that 
interval.  Every  one  seemed  to  ask  how  the 
country  was  to  get  on  without  him  to  man- 
age its  foreign  affairs,  and  when  he  would  be 
good  enough  to  come  down  from  his  quiet 
seat  in  the  Home  Office  and  assume  what 


94 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


seemed  his  natural  duties.  A famous  tenor 
singer  of  our  day  once  had  some  quarrel  with 
his  manager.  The  singer  withdrew  from  the 
company  ; some  one  else  had  to  be  put  in  his 
place.  On  the  first  night  when  the  new  man 
made  his  appearance  before  the  public,  the 
great  singer  was  seen  in  a box  calmly  watch- 
ing the  performance  like  any  other  of  the  au- 
dience. The  new  man  turned  out  a failure. 
The  eyes  of  the  house  began  to  fix  themselves 
upon  the  one  who  could  sing,  but  who  was 
sitting  as  unconcernedly  in  his  box  as  if  he 
never  meant  to  sing  any  more.  The  audi- 
ence at  first  were  incredulous.  It  was  in  a 
great  provincial  city  where  the  singer  had  al- 
ways been  a prime  favorite.  They  could 
not  believe  that  they  were  in  good  faith  to 
be  expected  to  put  up  with  bad  singing  while 
he  was  there.  At  last  their  patience  gave 
way.  They  insisted  on  the  one  singer  leav- 
ing his  place  on  the  stage,  and  the  other  com- 
ing down  from  his  box  and  his  easy  attitude 
of  unconcern,  and  resuming  what  they  re- 
garded as  his  proper  part.  They  would 
have  their  way  ; they  carried  their  point ; 
and  the  man  who  could  sing  was  compelled 
at  last  to  return  to  the  scene  of  his  old  tri- 
umphs and  sing  for  them  again.  The  atti- 
tude of  Lord  Palmerston  and  the  manner  in 
which  the  public  eyes  were  turned  upon  him 
during  the  early  days  of  the  war  could  hard- 
ly be  illustrated  more  effectively  than  by  this 
story.  As  yet  the  only  wonder  was  why  he 
did  not  take  somehow  the  directorship  of 
affairs  ; the  time  was  to  come  when  the  gen- 
eral voice  would  insist  upon  his  doing  so. 

One  day  a startling  report  ran  through  all 
circles.  It  was  given  out  that  Palmerston 
had  actually  resigned.  So  far  was  he  from 
any  intention  of  taking  on  himself  the  direc- 
tion of  affairs — even  of  war  or  of  foreign 
affairs — that  he  appeared  to  have  gone  out  of 
the  Ministry  altogether.  The  report  was 
confirmed  : Palmerston  actually  had  resigned. 
It  was  at  once  asserted  that  his  resignation 
was  caused  by  difference  of  opinion  between 
him  and  his  colleagues  on  the  Eastern  policy 
of  the  Government.  But  on  the  other  hand 
it  was  as  st  outly  affirmed  that  the  difference  of 
opinion  had  only  to  do  with  the  new  Reform 
Bill  which  Lord  Jchn  Russell  was  preparing 
to  introduce.  Now  it  is  certain  that  Lord 
Palmerston  did  differ  in  opinion  with  Lord 
John  Russell  on  the  subject  of  his  Reform 
Bill.  It  is  certain  that  this  was  the  avowed 
cause,  and  the  only  avowed  cause,  of  Pal- 
merston’s resignation.  But  it  is  equally  cer- 
tain that  the  real  cause  of  the  resignation  was 
the  conviction  in  Palmerston’s  mind  that  his 
colleagues  were  not  up  to  the  demands  of  the 
crisis  in  regard  to  the  Eastern  war.  Lord 
Palmerston’s  letters  to  his  brother  on  the 
subject  are  amusing.  They  resemble  some 
of  the  epistles  which  used  to  pass  between 
suspected  lovers  in  old  days,  and  in  which 
the  words  were  so  arranged  that  the  sentences 
conveyed  an  obvious  meaning  good  enough 
for  the  eye  of  jealous  authority,  hut  had  a 
very  different  tale  to  tell  to  the  one  being  for 
whom  the  truth  was  intended.  Lord  Palmer- 
ston gives  his  brother  along  and  circumstan- 
tial account  of  the  differences  about  the  Re- 
form Bill,  and  about  the  impossibility  of  a 
Home  Secretary  either  supporting  by  speech 
a Bill  he  did  not  like,  or  sitting  silent  during 
the  whole  discussion  on  it  in  the  House  of 
Commons.  He  shows  that  he  could  not  pos- 
sibly do  otherwise  under  such  trying  circum- 
stances than  resign.  The  whole  letter,  until 
we  come  to  the  very  last  paragraph,  is  about 
the  Reform  Bill  and  nothing  else.  One 
might  suppose  that  nothing  else  whatever 
was  entering  into  the  writer’s  thoughts.  But 
at  the  end  Palmerston  just  remembers  to  add 
that  the  Times  was  telling  “ an  untruth” 
when  it  said  there  had  been  no  difference  in 
the  Cabinet  about  Eastern  affairs,  for  in  fact 
there  had  been  some  little  lack  of  agreement 
on  the  subject,  but  it  would  have  looked 
rather  silly,  Palmerston  thinks,  if  he  were  to 
have  gone  out  of  office  merely  because  he 


could  not  have  his  own  way  about  Turkish 
affairs.  Exactly  ; and  in  a few  days  after 
Palmerston  was  induced  to  withdraw  his  res- 
ignation and  to  remain  in  the  Government ; 
and  then  he  wrote  to  his  brother  again  ex- 
plaining how  and  all  about  it.  He  explains 
that  several  members  of  the  Cabinet  told  him 
they  considered  the  details  of  the  Reform 
Bill  quite  open  to  discussion  and  so  forth. 
“ Their  earnest  representations,  and  the 
knowledge  that  the  Cabinet  had  on  Thursday 
taken  a decision  on  Turkish  affairs  in  entire 
accordance  with  opinions  which  I had  long 
unsuccessfully  pressed  upon  them,  decided 
me  to  withdraw  my  resignation,  which  I did 
yesterday.”  “ Of  course,”  Lord  Palmerston 
quietly  adds,  “ what  I say  to  you  about  the 
Cabinet  decision  on  Turkish  affairs  is  entirely 
for  yourself  and  not  to  be  mentioned  to  any- 
body. But  it  is  very  important,  and  will 
give  the  allied  squadrons  the  command  of  the 
Black  Sea.”  All  this  was  very  prudent,  of 
course,  and  very  prettily  arranged.  But  we 
doubt  whether  a single  man  in  England  who 
cared  anything  about  the  whole  question 
was  imposed  upon  for  one  moment.  Nobody 
believed  that  at  such  a time  Lord  Palmerston 
would  have  gone  out  of  office  because  he  did 
not  quite  like  the  details  of  a Reform  Bill,  or 
that  the  Cabinet  would  have  obstinately  clung 
to  such  a scheme  just  then  in  spite  of  his  op- 
position. Indeed  the  first  impression  of 
every  one  was  that  Palmerston  had  gone  out 
only  in  order  to  come  back  again  much 
stronger  than  before  ; that  he  resigned  when 
he  could  not  have  his  way  in  Eastern  affairs, 
and  that  he  would  resume  office  empowered 
to  have  his  way  in  everything.  The  explana- 
tions about  the  Reform  Bill  found  as  impa- 
tient listeners  among  the  public  at  large  as  the 
desperate  attempts  of  the  young  heroine  in 
“ She  Stoops  to  Conquer”  to  satisfy  honest 
Tony  Lumpkin  with  her  hasty  and  ill-con- 
cocted devices  about  Shakebag  and  Green  and 
the  rest  of  them,  whose  story  she  pretends 
to  read  for  him  from  the  letter  which  is  not 
intended  to  reach  the  suspicious  ears  of  his 
mother.  When  Lord  Palmerston  resumed 
his  place  in  the  Ministry,  the  public  at  large 
felt  certain  that  the  war  spirit  was  now  at 
last  to  have  its  way,  and  that  the  dallyings  of 
the  peace-lovers  were  over. 

Nor  was  England  long  left  to  guess  at  the 
reason  why  Lord  Palmerston  had  so  suddenly 
resigned  his  office,  and  so  suddenly  returned 
to  it.  A great  disaster  had  fallen  upon  Tur- 
key. Her  fleet  had  been  destroyed  by  the 
Russians  at  Sinope,  in  the  Black  Sea.  Sinope 
is,  or  was,  a considerable  seaport  town  and 
naval  station  belonging  to  Turkey,  and  stand- 
ing on  a rocky  promontory  on  the  southern 
shore  of  the  Black  Sea.  On  November  30, 
1853,  the  Turkish  squadron  was  lying  there 
at  anchor.  The  squadron  consisted  of  seven 
frigates,  a sloop,  and  a steamer.  It  had  no 
ship  of  the  line.  The  Russian  fleet,  consist- 
ing of  six  ships  of  the  line  and  some  steam- 
ers, had  been  cruising  about  the  Black  Sea 
for  several  days  previously,  issuing  from  Se- 
bastopol, and  making  an  occasional  swoop 
now  and  then  as  if  to  bear  down  upon  the 
Turkish  squadron.  The  Turkish  commander 
was  quite  aware  of  the  danger,  and  pressed 
for  reinforcements  ; but  nothing  was  done, 
either  by  the  Turkish  Government  or  by  the 
ambassadors  of  the  allies  at  Constantinople. 
On  November  30,  however,  the  Sebastopol 
fleet  did  actually  bear  down  upon  the  Turk- 
ish vessels  lying  at  Sinope.  The  Turks,  see- 
ing that  an  attack  was  coming  at  last,  not 
only  accepted  but  even  anticipated  it ; for 
they  were  the  first  to  fire.  The  fight  was 
hopeless  for  them.  They  fought  with  all  the 
desperate  energy  of  fearless  and  unconquer- 
able men  ; unconquerable,  at  least,  in  the 
sense  that  they  would  not  yield.  But  the 
odds  were  too  much  against  them  to  give 
them  any  chance.  Either  they  would  not 
haul  down  their  flag,  which  is  very  likely, 
or  if  they  did  strike  their  colors  the  Russian 
admiral  did  not  see  the  signal.  The  fight 


went  on  until  the  whole  Turkish  squadron, 
save  for  the  steamer,  was  destroyed.  It  was 
asserted  on  official  authority  that  over  four 
thousand  Turks  were  killed  ; that  the  sur- 
vivors hardly  numbered  four  hundred  ; and 
that  of  these  every  man  was  wounded. 
Sinope  itself  was  much  shattered  and  bat- 
tered by  the  Russian  fleet.  The  affair  was 
at  once  the  destruction  of  the  Turkish  ships 
and  an  attack  upon  Turkish  territory. 

This  was  ‘‘the  massacre  of  Sinope.” 
When  the  news  came  to  England  there  arose 
one  cry  of  grief  and  anger  and  shame.  It 
was  regarded  as  a deliberate  act  of  treachery, 
consummated  amid  conditions  of  the  most 
hideous  barbarity.  A clamor  arose  against 
the  Emperor  of  Russia  as  if  he  were  a mon- 
ster outside  the  pale  of  civilized  law,  like 
some  of  the  furious  and  treacherous  despots 
of  mediaeval  Asiatic  history.  Mr.  Kinglake 
has  shown  — and  indeed  the  sequence  of 
events  must  in  time  have  shown  every  one — 
that  there  was  no  foundation  for  these  ac- 
cusations. The  attack  was  not  treacherous, 
but  openly  made  ; not  sudden,  but  clearly 
announced  by  previous  acts,  and  long  ex- 
pected, as  we  have  seen,  by  the  Turkish  com- 
mander himself  ; and  it  was  not  in  breach 
even  of  the  courtesies  of  war.  Russia  and 
Turkey  were  not  only  formally  but  actually 
at  war.  The  Turks  were  the  first  to  begin 
the  actual  military  operations.  More  than 
five  weeks  before  the  affair  at  Sinope  they 
had  opened  the  business  by  firing  from  a fort- 
ress on  a Russian  flotilla.  A few  days  after 
this  act  they  crossed  the  Danube  at  Widdin 
and  occupied  Kalafat ; and  for  several  days 
they  had  fought  under  Omar  Pasha  with  bril- 
liant success  against  the  Russians  at  Oltenit- 
za.  All  England  had  been  enthusiastic  about 
the  bravery  which  the  Turks  had  shown  at 
Oltenitza  and  the  success  which  had  attended 
their  first  encounter  with  the  enemy.  It  was 
hardly  to  be  expected  that  the  Emperor  of 
Russia  would  only  fight  where  he  was  at  a 
disadvantage,  and  refrain  from  attack  where 
his  power  was  overwhelming.  Still  there 
was  an  impression  among  English  and  French 
statesmen  that  while  negotiations  for  peace 
were  actually  going  on  between  the  Western 
Powers  and  Russia,  and  while  the  fleets  of 
England  and  France  were  remaining  peace- 
fully at  anchor  in  the  Bosphorus,  whither 
they  had  been  summoned  by  this  time,  the 
Russian  Emperor  would  abstain  from  com- 
plicating matters  by  making  use  of  his  Sebas- 
topol fleet.  Nothing  could  have  been  more 
unwise  than  to  act  upon  an  impression  of  this 
kind  as  if  it  were  a regular  agreement.  But 
the  English  public  did  not  understand  at  that 
moment  the  actual  condition  of  things,  and 
may  well  have  supposed  that  if  our  Govern- 
ment seemed  secure  and  content,  there  must 
have  been  some  definite  arrangement  to  create 
so  happy  a condition  of  mind.  It  may  look 
strange  to  readers  now,  surveying  this  chap- 
ter of  past  history  with  cool,  unimpassioned 
mind,  that  anybody  could  have  believed  in 
the  existence  of  any  arrangement  by  virtue  of 
which  Turkey  could,  be  at  war  with  Russia  and 
not  at  war  with  her  at  the  same  time  ; which 
would  have  allowed  Turkey  to  strike  her  en- 
emy when  and  how  she  pleased,  and  would 
have  restricted  the  enemy  to  such  time,  place 
and  method  of  retort  as  might  suit  the  con- 
venience of  the  neutral  Powers.  But  at  the 
time,  when  the  true  state  of  affairs  was  little 
known  in  England,  the  account  of  the  “ mas- 
sacre of  Sinope”  was  received  as  if  it  had 
been  the  tale  of  some  unparalleled  act  of 
treachery  and  savagery  ; and  the  eagerness 
of  the  country  for  wrar  against  Russia  became 
inflamed  to  actual  passion. 

It  was  at  that  moment  that  Palmerston  re- 
signed his  office.  The  Cabinet  were  still  not 
prepared  to  go  as  far  as  he  would  have  gone. 
They  had  believed  that  the  Sebastopol  fleet 
would  do  nothing  as  long  as  the  Western 
Powers  kept  talking  about  peace  ; they  now 
believed  perhaps  that  the  Emperor  of  Russia 
would  say  he  was  very  sorry  for  what  had 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


95 


been  done,  and  promise  not  to  do  so  any 
more.  Lord  Palmerston,  supported  by  the 
urgent  pressure  of  the  Emperor  of  the 
French,  succeeded,  however,  in  at  last  over- 
coming their  determination.  It  was  agreed 
that  some  decisive  announcement  should  be 
made  to  the  Emperor  of  Russia  on  the  part 
of  England  and  France  ; and  Lord  Palmer- 
ston resumed  his  place,  master  of  the  situa- 
tion. This  was  the  decision  of  which  he  had 
spoken  in  his  letter  to  his  brother  ; the  de- 
cision which  he  said  he  had  long  unsuccess- 
fully pressed  upon  his  colleagues,  and  which 
would  give  the  allied  squadrons  the  com- 
mand of  the  Black  Sea.  It  was,  in  fact,  an 
intimation  to  Russia  that  France  and  Eng- 
land were  resolved  to  prevent  any  repetition 
of  the  Sinope  affair  ; that  their  squadrons 
would  enter  the  Black  Sea  with  orders  to  re- 
quest, and  if  necessary  to  constrain,  every 
Russian  ship  met  in  the  Euxine  to  return  to 
Sebastopol  ; and  to  repel  by  force  any  act  of 
aggression  afterwards  attempted  against  the 
Ottoman  territory  or  flag.  This  was  not,  it 
should  be  observed,  simply  an  intimation  to 
the  Emperor  of  Russia  that  the  Great  Powers 
would  impose  and  enforce  the  neutrality  of 
the  Black  Sea.  It  was  an  announcement 
that  if  the  flag  of  Russia  dared  to  show  itself 
on  that  sea,  which  washed  Russia’s  southern 
shores,  the  war  - ships  of  two  far  foreign 
states,  taking  possession  of  those  waters, 
would  pull  it  down,  or  compel  those  who 
bore  it  to  fly  ignominiously  into  port.  This 
was  in  fact  war. 

Of  course  Lord  Palmerston  knew  this.  Be- 
cause it  meant  war  he  accepted  it  and  re- 
turned to  his  place,  well  pleased  with  the 
way  in  which  things  were  going.  From  his 
point  of  view  he  was  perfectly  right.  He 
had  been  consistent  all  through.  He  believed 
from  the  first  that  the  pretensions  of  Russia 
would  have  to  be  put  down  by  force  of  arms, 
and  could  not  be  put  down  in  any  other  way  ; 
he  believed  that  the  danger  to  England  from 
the  aggrandizement  of  Russia  was  a capital 
danger  calling  for  any  extent  of  national  sac- 
rifice to  avert  it.  He  believed  that  a war 
with  Russia  was  inevitable,  and  he  preferred 
taking  it  sooner  to  taking  it  later.  He  be- 
lieved that  an  alliance  with  the  Emperor  of 
the  French  was  desirable,  and  a war  with 
Russia  would  be  the  best  means  of  making 
this  effective.  Lord  Palmerston,  therefore, 
was  determined  not  to  remain  in  the  Cabinet 
unless  some  strenuous  measures  were  taken, 
and  now,  as  on  a memorable  former  occasion, 
he  understood  better  than  any  one  else  the 
prevailing  temper  of  the  English  people. 

When  the  resolution  of  the  Western  Cab- 
inets was  communicated  to  the  Emperor  of 
Russia  he  withdrew  his  representatives  from 
London  and  Paris.  On  February  21,  1854, 
the  diplomatic  relations  between  Russia  and 
the  two  allied  Powers  were  brought  to  a stop. 
Six  weeks  before  this  the  English  and  French 
fleets  had  entered  the  Black  Sea.  The  inter- 
val was  filled  up  with  renewed  efforts  to 
bring  about  a peaceful  arrangement,  which 
were  conducted  with  as  much  gravity  as  if 
any  one  believed  in  the  possibility  of  their 
success.  The  Emperor  of  the  French,  who 
always  loved  letter-writing  and  delighted  in 
what  Cobden  once  happily  called  the  “ mon- 
umental style,”  wrote  to  the  Russian  Em- 
peror appealing  to  him,  professedly  in  the 
interests  of  peace,  to  allow  an  armistice  to  be 
signed,  to  let  the  belligerent  forces  on  both 
sides  retire  from  the  places  to  which  motives 
of  war  had  led  them,  and  then  to  negotiate  a 
convention  with  the  Sultan  which  might  be 
submitted  to  a conference  of  the  four  Powers. 
If  Russia  would  not  do  this  then  Louis  Napo- 
leon, undertaking  to  speak  in  the  name  of 
the  Queen  of  Great  Britain  as  well  as  of  him- 
self, intimated  that  France  and  England 
would  be  compelled  to  leave  to  the  chances 
of  war  what  might  now  be  decided  by  reason 
and  justice.  The  Emperor  Nicholas  replied 
that  he  had  claimed  nothing  but  what  was 
confirmed  by  treaties ; that  his  conditions 


were  perfectly  well  known  ; that  he  was  still 
willing  to  treat  on  these  conditions  ; but  if 
Russia  were  driven  to  arms,  then  he  quietly 
observed  that  he  had  no  doubt  she  could  hold 
her  own  as  well  in  1854  as  she  had  done  in 
1812.  That  year,  1812,  it  is  hardly  necessary 
to  say,  was  the  year  of  the  burning  of  Mos- 
cow and  the  disastrous  retreat  of  the  French. 
We  can  easily  understand  what  faith  in  the 
possibility  of  a peaceful  arrangement  the 
Russian  Emperor  must  have  had  when  he 
made  the  allusion  and  the  French  Emperor 
must  have  had  when  it  met  his  eye.  Of 
course  if  Louis  Napoleon  had  had  the  faint- 
est belief  in  any  good  result  to  come  of  his 
letter  he  would  never  have  closed  it  with  the 
threat  which  provoked  the  Russian  sovereign 
into  his  insufferable  rejoinder.  The  corre- 
spondence might  remind  one  of  that  which  is 
said  to  have  passed  between  two  Irish  chief- 
tains. ‘‘Pay  me  my  tribute,”  wrote  the 
one,  “ or  else  !”  “ I owe  you  no  tribute,” 

replied  the  other,  “ and  if  . . .” 

England’s  ultimatum  to  Russia  was  des- 
patched on  February  27, 1854.  It  was  convey- 
ed in  a letter  from  Lord  Clarendon  to  Count 
Nesselrode.  It  declared  that  the  British  Gov- 
ernment had  exhausted  all  the  efforts  of  nego- 
tiation, and  was  compelled  to  announce  that 
“ if  Russia  should  decline  to  restrict  within 
purely  diplomatic  limits  the  discussion  in 
which  she  has  for  some  time  past  been  en- 
gaged with  the  Sublime  Porte,  and  does  not, 
by  return  of  the  messenger  who  is  the  bearer 
of  my  present  letter,  announce  her  intention 
of  causing  the  Russian  troops  under  Prince 
Gortschakoff  to  commence  their  march  with 
a view  to  recross  the  Prutb,  so  that  the  prov- 
inces of  Moldavia  and  Wallachia  shall  be 
completely  evacuated  on  April  30  next,  the 
British  Government  must  consider  the  refusal 
or  the  silence  of  the  Cabinet  of  St.  Peters- 
burg as  equivalent  to  a declaration  of  war, 
and  will  take  its  measures  accordingly.”  It 
is  not  perhaps  very  profitable  work  for  the 
historian  to  criticise  the  mere  terms  of  a doc- 
ument announcing  a course  of  action  which 
long  before  its  issue  had  become  inevitable. 
But  it  is  worth  while  remarking  perhaps  that 
it  would  have  been  better  and  more  dignified 
to  confine  the  letter  to  the  simple  demand  for 
the  evacuation  of  the  Danubian  provinces. 
To  ask  Russia  to  promise  that  her  contro- 
versy with  the  Porte  should  be  thencefor- 
ward restricted  within  purely  diplomatic  lim- 
its was  to  make  a demand  with  which  no 
Great  Power  would,  or  indeed  could,  under- 
take to  comply.  A member  of  the  Peace  So- 
ciety itself  might  well  hesitate  to  give  a prom- 
ise that  a dispute  in  which  he  was  engaged 
should  be  for  ever  confined  within  purely 
diplomatic  limits.  In  any  case  it  was  certain 
that  Russia  would  not  now  make  any  con- 
cessions tending  towards  peace.  The  mes- 
senger who  was  the  bearer  of  the  letter  was 
ordered  not  to  wait  more  than  six  days  for  an 
answer.  On  the  fifth  day  the  messenger 
was  informed  by  word  of  mouth  from  Count 
Nesselrode  that  the  Emperor  did  not  think  it 
becoming  in  him  to  give  any  reply  to  the  let- 
ter. The  die  was  cast.  Rather,  truly,  the 
fact  was  recorded  that  the  die  had  been  cast. 
A few  days  after  a crowd  assembled  in  front 
of  the  Royal  Exchange  to  watch  the  per- 
formance of  a ceremonial  that  had  been  little 
known  to  the  living  generation.  The  Ser- 
geant-at-Arms,  accompanied  by  some  of  the 
officials  of  the  City,  read  from  the  steps  of 
the  Royal  Exchange  her  Majesty’s  declaration 
of  war  against  Russia. 

The  causes  of  the  declaration  of  war  were 
set  forth  in  an  official  statement  published  in 
the  London  Gazette.  This  document  is  an  in- 
teresting and  a valuable  State  paper.  It  re- 
cites with  clearness  and  deliberation  the  suc- 
cessive steps  by  which  the  allied  Powers  had 
been  led  to  the  necessity  of  an  armed  inter- 
vention in  the  controversy  between  Turkey 
and  Russia.  It  described,  in  the  first  place, 
the  complaint  of  the  Emperor  of  Russia 
against  the  Sultan  with  reference  to  the 


claims  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  Churches,  and 
the  arrangement  promoted  satisfactorily  by 
her  Majesty’s  ambassador  at  Constantinople 
for  rendering  justice  to  the  claim,  ‘‘an  ar- 
trangemen  to  which  no  exception  was  taken 
by  the  Russian  Government.”  Then  came 
the  sudden  unmasking  of  the  other  and  quite 
different  claims  of  Prince  Mentscliikoff,  “ the 
nature  of  which  in  the  first  instance  he  en- 
deavored, as  far  as  possible,  to  conceal  from 
her  Majesty’s  ambassador.”  These  claims, 
“ thus  studiously  concealed,”  affected  not 
merely,  or  at  all,  the  privileges  of  the  Greek 
Church  at  Jerusalem,  “ but  the  position  of 
many  millions  of  Turkish  subjects  in  their  re- 
lations to  their  sovereign  the  Sultan.”  The 
declaration  recalled  the  various  attempts  that 
were  made  by  the  Queen’s  Government  in 
conjunction  with  the  Governments  of  France, 
Austria,  and  Prussia,  to  meet  any  just  de- 
mands of  the  Russian  Emperor  without  affect- 
ing the  dignity  and  independence  of  the  Sul- 
tan, and  showed  that  if  the  object  of  Russia 
had  been  solely  to  secure  their  proper  privi- 
leges and  immunities  for  the  Christian  popu- 
lations of  the  Ottoman  Empire,  the  offers 
that  were  made  could  not  have  failed  to  meet 
that  object.  Her  Majesty’s  Government, 
therefore,  held  it  as  manifest  that  what  Rus- 
sia was  really  seeking  was  not  the  happiness 
of  the  Christian  communities  of  Turkey,  but 
the  right  to  interfere  in  the  ordinary  relations 
between  Turkish  subjects  and  their  sover- 
eign. The  Sultan  refused  to  consent  to  this, 
and  declared  war  in  self-defence.  Yet  the 
Government  of  her  Majesty  did  not  renounce 
all  hope  of  restoring  peace  between  the  con- 
tending parties  until  advice  and  remonstrance 
proving  wholly  in  vain,  and  Russia  continu- 
ing to  extend  her  military  preparations,  her 
Majesty  felt  called  upon,  “ by  regard  for  an 
ally  the  integrity  and  independence  of  whose 
Empire  have  been  recognized  us  essential  to 
the  peace  of  Europe  ; by  the  sympathies  of 
her  people  with  right  against  wrong  ; by  a 
desire  to  avert  from  her  dominions  most  inju- 
rious consequences,  and  to  save  Europe  from 
the  preponderance  of  a Power  which  has  vio- 
lated the  faith  of  treaties  and  defies  the 
opinion  of  the  civilized  world,  to  take  up 
arms  in  conjunction  with  the  Emperor  of  the 
French  for  the  defence  of  the  Sultan.” 

Some  passages  of  this  declaration  have  in- 
vited criticism  from  English  historians.  It 
opens,  for  example,  with  a statement  of  the 
fact  that  the  efforts  for  an  arrangement  were 
made  by  her  Majesty  in  conjunction  with 
France,  Austria,  and  Prussia.  It  speaks  of 
this  concert  of  the  four  Powers  down  almost 
to  the  very  close  ; and  then  it  suddenly 
breaks  off  and  announces  that  in  conse- 
quence of  all  that  has  happened  her  Majesty 
has  felt  compelled  to  take  up  arms  ‘ ‘ in  con- 
junction with  the  Emperor  of  the  French.” 
What  strange  diplomatic  mismanagement,  it 
was  asked,  has  led  to  this  singular  non 
sequitur  t Why,  after  having  carried  on  the 
negotiations  through  all  their  various  stages 
with  three  other  Great  Powers,  all  of  them  sup- 
posed to  be  equally  interested  in  a settlement 
of  the  question,  is  England  at  the  last  moment 
compelled  to  take  up  arms  with  only  one  of 
those  Powers  as  an  ally  ? 

The  principal  reason  for  the  separation  of 
the  two  Western  Powers  of  Europe  from  the 
other  great  States  was  found  in  the  condition 
of  Prussia.  Prussia  was  then  greatly  under 
the  influence  of  the  Russian  court.  The 
Prussian  sovereign  was  related  to  the  Emperor 
of  Russia,  and  his  kingdom  was  almost  over- 
shadowed by  Russian  influence.  Prussia  had 
come  to  occupy  a lower  position  in  Europe 
than  she  had  ever  before  held  during  her  ex- 
istence as  a kingdom.  It  seemed  almost 
marvellous  how  by  any  process  the  country  of 
the  Great  Frederick  could  have  sunk  to  such 
a condition  of  insignificance.  She  had  been 
compelled  to  stoop  to  Austria  after  the  events 
of  1848.  The  King  of  Prussia,  tampering 
with  the  offers  of  the  strong  national  party 
who  desired  to  make  him  Emperor  of  Ger- 


96 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


many,  now  moving  forward  and  now  drawing 
back,  ‘ ‘ letting  I dare  not  wait  upon  I would , ’ ’ 
was  suddenly  pulled  up  by  Austria.  The 
famous  arrangement,  called  afterwards  ‘ ‘ the 
humiliation  of  Olmiitz,”  and  so  completely 
revenged  at  Sadowa,  compelled  him  to  drop 
all  his  triflings  with  nationalism  and  repudi- 
ate his  former  instigators.  The  King  of 
Prussia  was  a highly-cultured,  amiable,  liter- 
ary man.  He  loved  letters  and  arts  in  a sort 
dilettante  way  ; he  had  good  impulses  and  a 
weak  nature  ; he  was  a dreamer  ; a sort  of 
philosopher  manque.  He  was  unable  to 
make  up  his  miud  to  any  momentous  decision 
until  the  time  for  rendering  it  effective  had 
gone  by.  A man  naturally  truthful,  he  was 
often  led  by  very  weakness  into  acts  that 
seemed  irreconcilable  with  his  previous 
promises  and  engagements.  He  could  say 
witty  and  sarcastic  things,  and  when  political 
affairs  went  wrong  with  him  he  could  con- 
sole himself  with  one  or  two  sharp  sayings 
only  heard  of  by  those  immediately  around 
him  ; and  then  the  world  might  go  its  way 
for  him.  He  was,  like  Rob  Roy,  “ ower 
good  for  banning  and  ower  bad  for  blessing.  ” 
Like  our  own  Charles  II.,  he  never  said  a 
foolish  thing  and  never  did  a wise  one.  He 
ought  to  have  been  an  aesthetic  essayist,  or  a 
lecturer  on  art  and  moral  philosophy  to  young 
ladies  ; and  an  unkind  destiny  had  made  him 
the  king  of  a state  specially  embarrassed  in  a 
most  troublous  time.  So  unkindly  was  pop- 
ular rumor  as  well  as  fate  to  him,  that  he  got 
the  credit  in  foreign  countries  of  being  a stu- 
pid sensualist  when  he  was  really  a man  of 
respectable  habits  and  refined  nature  ; and  in 
England  at  least  the  nickname  “ King  Clic- 
quot ” was  long  the  brand  by  which  the  pop- 
ular and  most  mistaken  impression  of  his 
character  was  signified. 

The  King  of  Prussia  was  the  elder  brother 
of  the  present  German  Emperor.  Had  the 
latter  been  then  on  the  throne  he  would  prob- 
ably have  taken  some  timely  and  energetic 
decision  with  regard  to  the  national  duty  of 
Prussia  during  the  impending  crisis.  Right 
or  wrong,  he  would  doubtless  have  contrived 
to  see  his  way  and  make  up  his  mind  at  an 
early  stage  of  the  European  movement.  It 
is  by  no  means  to  be  assumed  that  he  would 
have  taken  the  course  most  satisfactory  to  Eng- 
land and  France  ; but  it  is  likely  that  his  ac- 
tion might  have  prevented  the  war,  either  by 
rendering  the  allied  Powers  far  too  strong  to 
be  resisted  by  Russia,  or  by  adding  to  Russia 
an  influence  which  would  have  rendered  the 
game  of  war  too  formidable  to  suit  the  calcu- 
lations of  the  Emperor  of  the  French.  The 
actual  King  of  Prussia,  however,  went  so  far 
with  the  allies  as  to  lead  them  for  a while  to 
believe  that  he  was  going  all  the  way  ; but  at 
the  last  moment  he  broke  off,  declared  that 
the  interests  of  Prussia  did  not  require  or  al- 
low him  to  engage  in  a war,  and  left  France 
and  England  to  walk  their  own  road.  Aus- 
tria could  not  venture  upon  such  a war  with- 
out the  co-operation  of  Prussia  ; and  indeed 
the  course  which  the  campaign  took  seemed 
likely  to  give  both  Austria  and  Prussia  a 
good  excuse  for  assuming  that  their  interests 
were  not  closely  engaged  in  the  struggle. 
Austria  would  most  certainly  have  gone  to 
war  if  the  Emperor  of  Russia  had  kept  up 
the  occupation  of  the  Danubian  Principali- 
ties ; and  for  that  purpose  her  territorial  sit- 
uation made  her  irresistible.  But  when  the 
seat  of  war  was  transferred  to  the  Black  Sea, 
and  when  after  a while  the  Czar  withdrew  his 
troops  from  the  Principalities,  and  Austria 
occupied  them  by  virtue  of  a convention  with 
the  Sultan,  her  direct  interest  in  the  struggle 
was  reduced  almost  to  nothiug.  Austria  and 
Prussia  were  in  fact  solicited  by  both  sides 
of  the  dispute,  and  at  one  time  it  was  even 
thought  possible  that  Prussia  might  give  her 
aid  to  Russia.  This,  however,  she  refrained 
from  doing  ; Austria  and  Prussia  made  an 
arrangement  between  themselves  for  mutual 
defence  in  case  the  progress  of  the  war  should 
directly  imperil  the  interests  of  either  ; and 


England  and  France  undertook  in  alliance 
the  task  of  chastising  the  presumption  and  re- 
straining the  ambitious  designs  of  Russia.  Mr. 
Kinglake  finds  much  fault  with  the  policy  of 
the  English  Government,  on  which  he  lays  all 
the  blame  of  the  severance  of  interests  between 
the  two  Western  States  and  the  other  two 
Great  Powers.  But  we  confess  that  we  do 
not  see  how  any  course  within  the  reach  of 
England  could  have  secured  just  then  the 
thorough  alliance  of  Prussia  ; and  without 
such  an  alliance  it  would  have  been  vain  to 
expect  that  Austria  would  throw  herself  un- 
reservedly into  the  policy  of  the  Western  Pow- 
ers. It  must  be  remembered  that  the  contro- 
versy between  Russia  and  the  West  really  in- 
volved several  distinct  questions,  in  some  of 
which  Prussia  had  absolutely  no  direct  inter- 
est and  Austria  very  little.  Let  us  set  out 
some  of  these  questions  separately.  There 
was  the  Russian  occupation  of  the  Principal- 
ities. In  this  Austria  frankly  acknowledged 
her  capital  interest.  Its  direct  bearing  was 
on  her  more  than  any  other  Power.  It  con- 
cerned Prussia  as  it  did  England  and  France, 
inasmuch  as  it  was  an  evidence  of  an  aggres- 
sive purpose  which  might  very  seriously 
threaten  the  general  stability  of  the  institu- 
tions of  Europe  ; but  Prussia  had  no  closer 
interest  in  it.  Austria  was  the  State  most 
affected  by  it,  and  Austria  was  the  State 
which  could  with  most  effect  operate  against 
it,  and  was  always  willing  and  resolute  if 
needs  were  to  do  so.  Then  there  was  the 
question  of  Russia’s  claim  to  exercise  a pro- 
tectorate over  the  Christian  populations  of 
Turkey.  This  concerned  England  and 
France  in  one  sense  as  part  of  the  general 
pretensions  of  Russia,  and  concerned  each  of 
them  separately  in  another  sense.  To  France 
it  told  of  a rivalry  with  the  right  she  claimed 
to  look  after  the  interests  of  the  Latin 
Church  ; to  England  it  spoke  of  a purpose  to 
obtain  a hold  over  populations  nominally  sub- 
ject to  the  Sultan  which  might  in  time  make 
Russia  virtual  master  of  the  approaches  to 
our  Eastern  possessions.  Austria  too  had  a 
direct  interest  in  repelling  these  pretensions 
of  Russia,  for  some  of  the  populations  they 
referred  to  were  on  her  very  frontier.  But 
Prussia  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  had  any 
direct  national  interest  in  that  question  at  all. 
Then  there  came,  distinct  from  all  these,  the 
question  of  the  Straits  of  the  Dardanelles  and 
the  Bosphorus. 

This  question  of  the  Straits,  which  has  so 
much  to  do  with  the  whole  European  aspect 
of  the  war,  is  not  to  be  understood  except  by 
those  who  bear  the  conformation  of  the  map 
of  Europe  constantly  in  their  minds.  The 
only  outlet  of  Russia  on  the  southern  side  is 
the  Black  Sea.  The  Black  Sea  is,  save  for 
one  little  outlet  at  its  south-western  extrem- 
ity, a huge  land-locked  lake.  That  little  out- 
let is  the  narrow  channel  called  the  Bospho- 
rus. Russia  and  Turkey  between  them  sur- 
round the  whole  of  the  Black  Sea  with  their 
territory.  Russia  has  the  north  and  some  of 
the  eastern  shore  ; Turkey  has  all  the  south- 
ern, the  Asia  Minor  shore,  and  nearly  all  the 
western  shore.  Close  the  Straits  of  the  Bos- 
phorus and  Russia  would  be  literally  locked 
into  the  Black  Sea.  The  Bosphorus  is  a nar- 
row channel,  as  has  been  said  ; it  is  some 
seventeen  miles  in  length,  and  in  some  places 
it  is  hardly  more  than  half  a mile  in  breadth. 
But  it  is  very  deep  all  through,  so  that  ships 
of  war  can  float  close  up  to  its  very  shores 
on  either  side.  This  channel  in  its  course 
passes  between  the  city  of  Constantinople  and 
its  Asiatic  suburb  of  Scutari.  The  Bospho- 
rus then  opens  into  the  little  Sea  of  Mar- 
mora ; and  out  of  the  Sea  of  Marmora  the 
way  westward  is  through  the  channel  of  the 
Dardanelles.  The  Dardanelles  form  the  only 
passage  into  the  Archipelago,  and  thence  into 
the  Mediterranean.  The  channel  of  the  Dar- 
danelles is,  like  the  Bosphorus,  very  narrow 
and  very  deep,  but  it  pursues  its  course  for 
some  forty  miles.  Any  one  who  holds  a map 
in  his  hand  will  see  at  once  how  Turkey  and 


Russia  alike  are  affected  by  the  existence  of 
the  Straits  on  either  extremity  of  the  Sea  of 
Marmora.  Close  up  these  Straits  against 
vessels  of  war,  and  the  capital  of  the  Sultan 
is  absolutely  unassailable  from  the  sea. 
Close  them,  on  the  other  hand,  and  the  Rus- 
sian fleet  in  the  Black  Sea  is  absolutely  cut 
off  from  the  Mediterranean  and  the  Western 
world.  But  then  it  has  to  be  remembered 
that  the  same  act  of  closing  would  secure  the 
Russian  ports  and  shores  on  the  Black  Sea 
from  the  approach  of  any  of  the  great  navies 
of  the  West.  The  Dardanelles  and  the  Bos- 
phorus being  alike  such  narrow  channels, 
and  being  edged  alike  by  Turkish  territory, 
were  not  regarded  as  high  seas.  The  Sul- 
tans always  claimed  the  right  to  exclude 
foreign  ships  of  war  from  both  the  Straits. 
The  Treaty  of  1841  secured  this  right  to  Tur- 
key by  the  agreement  of  the  five  Great  Pow- 
ers of  Europe.  The  treaty  acknowledged 
that  the  Porte  had  the  right  to  shut  the 
Straits  against  the  armed  navies  of  any 
foreign  Power  ; and  the  Sultan  for  his  part 
engaged  not  to  allow  any  such  navy  to  enter 
either  of  the  Straits  in  time  of  peace.  The 
closing  of  the  Straits  had  been  the  subject  of 
a perfect  succession  of  treaties.  The  Treaty 
of  1809  between  Great  Britain  and  Turkey 
confirmed  by  engagement  ‘ ‘ the  ancient  rule 
of  the  Ottoman  Empire”  forbidding  vessels 
of  war  at  all  times  to  enter  the  “ Canal  of 
Constantinople.”  The  Treaty  of  Unkiar- 
Skelessi  between  Russia  and  Turkey,  arising 
out  of  Russia’s  co-operation  with  the  Porte 
to  put  down  the  rebellious  movement  of  Mo- 
hammed Ali,  the  Egyptian  vassal  of  the  lat- 
ter, contained  a secret  clause  binding  the 
Porte  to  close  “ the  Dardanelles”  against  all 
war  vessels  whatever,  thus  shutting  Russia’s 
enemies  out  of  the  Black  Sea,  but  leaving 
Russia  free  to  pass  the  Bosphorus,  so  far  at 
least  as  that  treaty  engagement  was  concern- 
ed. Later,  when  the  Great  Powers  of  Europe 
combined  to  put  down  the  attempts  of  Egypt, 
the  Treaty  of  July  13,  1841,  made  in  Lon- 
don, engaged  that  in  time  of  peace  no  foreign 
ships  of  war  should  be  admitted  into  the 
Straits  of  the  Bosphorus  and  the  Dardanelles. 
This  treaty  was  but  a renewal  of  a conven- 
tion made  the  year  before,  while  France  was 
still  sulking  away  from  the  European  concert 
and  did  nothing  more  than  record  her  return 
to  it. 

As  matters  stood  then,  the  Sultan  was  not 
only  permitted  but  was  bound  to  close  the 
Straits  in  times  of  peace,  and  no  navy  might 
enter  them  without  his  consent  even  in 
times  of  war.  But  in  times  of  war  he  might 
of  course  give  the  permission  and  invite  the 
presence  and  co-operation  of  the  armed  ves- 
sels of  a foreign  Power  in  the  Sea  of  Mar- 
mora. By  this  treaty  the  Black  Sea  fleet  of 
Russia  became  literally  a Black  Sea  fleet,  and 
could  no  more  reach  the  Mediterranean  and 
Western  Europe  than  a boat  on  the  Lake  of 
Lucerne  could  do.  Naturally  Russia  chafed 
at  this  ; but  at  the  same  time  she  was  not 
willing  to  see  the  restriction  withdrawn  in 
favor  of  an  arrangement  that  would  leave  the 
Straits,  and  consequently  the  Black  Sea,  open 
to  the  navies  of  France  and  England.  Her 
supremacy  in  Eastern  Europe  would  count 
for  little,  her  power  of  coercing  Turkey 
would  be  sadly  diminished,  if  the  war-flag 
of  England,  for  example,  were  to  float  side 
by  side  with  her  own  in  front  of  Constanti- 
nople or  in  the  Euxine.  Therefore  it  was 
natural  that  the  ambition  of  Russia  should 
tend  towards  the  ultimate  possession  of  Con- 
stantinople and  the  Straits  for  herself  ; but  as 
this  was  an  ambition  the  fulfilment  of  which 
seemed  far  off  and  beset  with  vast  dangers, 
her  object,  meanwhile,  was  to  gain  as  much 
influence  and  ascendency  as  possible  over  the 
Ottoman  Government ; to  make  it  practically 
the  vassal  of  Russia,  and  in  any  case  to  pre- 
vent any  other  Great  Power  from  obtaining 
the  influence  and  ascendency  which  she 
coveted  for  herself.  Now  the  tendency  of 
this  ambition  and  of  all  the  intermediate 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


97 


claims  and  disputes  with  regard  to  the  open- 
ing or  closing  of  the  Straits  was  of  impor- 
tance to  Europe  generally  as  a part  of  Russian 
aggrandizement  ; but  of  the  Great  Powers 
they  concerned  England  most ; France  as  a 
Mediterranean  and  a naval  power  ; Austria 
only  in  a third  and  remoter  degree  ; and 
Prussia  at  the  time  of  King  Frederick  Wil- 
liam least  of  all.  It  is  not  surprising  there- 
fore that  the  two  Western  Powers  were  not 
able  to  carry  their  accord  with  Prussia  to  the 
extent  of  an  alliance  in  war  against  Russia  ; 
and  it  was  hardly  possible  then  for  Austria 
to  go  on  if  Prussia  insisted  on  drawing  back. 
Thus  it  came  that  at  a certain  point  of  the  ne- 
gotiations Prussia  fell  off  absolutely,  or  near- 
ly so  ; Austria  undertook  but  a conditional  co- 
operation, of  which,  as  it  happened,  the  con- 
ditions did  not  arise  ; and  the  Queen  of  Eng- 
land announced  that  she  had  taken  up  arms 
against  Russia  “ in  conjunction  with  the  Em. 
peror  of  the  French.” 

To  the  great  majority  of  the  English  people 
this  war  was  popular.  It  was  popular  part- 
ly because  of  the  natural  and  inevitable  reac- 
tion against  the  doctrines  of  peace  and  mere 
trading  prosperity  which  had  been  preached 
somewhat  too  pertinaciously  for  some  time 
before.  But  it  was  popular  too  because  of 
its  novelty.  It  was  like  a return  to  the  youth 
of  the  world  when  England  found  herself 
once  more  preparing  for  the  field.  It  was 
like  the  pouring  of  new  blood  into  old  veins. 
The  public  had  grown  impatient  of  the  com- 
mon saying  of  foreign  capitals,  that  England 
had  joined  the  Peace  Society  and  would 
never  be  seen  in  battle  any  more.  Mr.  King- 
lake  is  right  when  he  says  that  the  doctrines 
of  the  Peace  Society  had  never  taken  any 
hold  of  the  higher  classes  in  this  country  at 
all.  They  had  never,  we  may  venture  to 
add,  taken  any  real  hold  of  the  humbler 
classes  ; of  the  workingmen,  for  example. 
The  well  educated,  thoughtful  middle  class, 
who  knew  how  much  of  worldly  happiness 
depends  on  a regular  income,  moderate  taxa- 
tion, and  a comfortable  home,  supplied  most 
of  the  advocates  of  “ peace,”  as  it  was  scorn- 
fully said,  ‘‘at  any  price.”  Let  us  say,  in 
justice  to  a very  noble  and  very  futile  doc- 
trine, that  there  were  no  persons  in  England 
who  advocated  peace  “ at  any  price,”  in  the 
ignominious  sense  which  hostile  critics 
pressed  upon  the  words.  There  was  a small, 
a serious,  and  a very  respectable  body  of  per- 
sons who,  out  of  the  purest  motives  of  con- 
science, held  that  all  war  was  criminal  and 
offensive  to  the  Deity.  They  were  for  peace 
at  any  price,  exactly  as  they  were  for  truth 
at  any  price,  or  conscience  at  any  price. 
They  were  opposed  to  war  as  they  were  to 
falsehood  or  to  impiety.  It  seemed  as  natural 
to  them  that  a man  should  die  unresisting 
rather  than  resist  and  kill,  as  it  does  to  most 
persons  who  profess  any  sentiment  of  religion 
or  even  of  honor,  that  a man  should  die 
rather  than  abjure  the  faith  he  believes  in,  or 
tell  a lie.  It  is  assumed  as  a matter  of  course 
that  any  Englishman  worthy  of  the  name 
would  have  died  by  any  torture  tyranny  could 
put  on  him  rather  than  perform  the  old  cere- 
mony of  trampling  on  the  crucifix  which  cer- 
tain heathen  states  were  said  to  have  some- 
times insisted  on  as  the  price  of  a captive’s 
freedom.  To  the  believers  in  the  peace  doc- 
trine the  act  of  war  was  a trampling  on  the 
crucifix,  which  brought  with  it  evil  conse- 
quences unspeakably  worse  than  the  mere 
performance  of  a profane  ceremonial.  To 
declare  that  they  would  rather  suffer  any 
earthly  penalty  of  defeat  or  national  servi- 
tude than  take  part  in  a war,  was  only  con- 
sistent with  the  great  creed  of  their  lives.  It 
ought  not  to  have  been  held  as  any  reproach 
to  them.  Even  those  who,  like  this  writer, 
have  no  personal  sympathy  with  such  a be- 
lief, and  who  hold  that  a war  in  a just  cause 
is  an  honor  to  a nation,  may  still  recognize 
the  purity  and  nobleness  of  the  principle 
which  inspired  the  votaries  of  peace  and  do 
honor  to  it.  But  these  men  were  in  any  case 


| not  many  at  the  time  when  the  Crimean  War 
broke  out.  They  had  very  little  influence  on 
the  course  of  the  national  policy.  They 
were  assailed  with  a flippant  and  a somewhat 
ignoble  ridicule.  The  worst  reproach  that 
could  be  given  to  men  like  Mr.  Cobden  and  Mr. 
Bright  was  to  accuse  them  of  being  members 
of  the  Peace  Society.  It  does  not  appear  that 
either  man  was  a member  of  the  actual  organ- 
ization. Mr.  Bright’s  religious  creed  made 
him  necessarily  a votary  of  peace  ; Mr.  Cob- 
den had  attended  meetings  called  with  the 
futile  purpose  of  establishing  peace  among 
nations  by  the  operation  of  good  feeling  and 
of  common  sense.  But  for  a considerable 
time  the  temper  of  the  English  people  was 
such  as  to  render  any  talk  about  peace  not 
only  unprofitable  but  perilous  to  the  very 
cause  of  peace  itself.  Some  of  the  leading 
members  of  the  Peace  Society  did  actually 
get  up  a deputation  to  the  Emperor  Nicholas 
to  appeal  to  his  better  feelings  ; and  of  course 
they  were  charmed  by  the  manners  of  the 
Emperor,  who  made  it  his  business  to  be  in  a 
very  gracious  humor,  and  spoke  them  fair, 
and  introduced  them  in  the  most  unceremo- 
nious way  to  his  wife.  Such  a visit  counted 
for  nothing  in  Russia,  and  at  home  it  only 
tended  to  make  people  angry  and  impatient, 
and  to  put  the  cause  of  peace  in  greater  jeop- 
ardy than  ever.  Viewed  as  a practical  influ- 
ence the  peace  doctrine  as  completely  broke 
down  as  a general  resolution  against  the  mak- 
ing of  money  might  have  done  during  the 
time  of  the  mania  for  speculation  in  railway 
shares.  But  it  did  not  merely  break  down 
of  itself.  It  carried  some  great  influences 
down  with  it  for  the  time — influences  that 
were  not  a part  of  itself.  The  eloquence  that 
had  coerced  the  intellect  and  reasoning  power 
of  Peel  into  a complete  surrender  to  the  doc- 
trines of  Free  Trade,  the  eloquence  that  had 
aroused  the  populations  of  all  the  cities  of 
England  and  had  conquered  the  House  of 
Commons,  was  destined  now  to  call  aloud  to 
solitude.  Mr.  Cobden  and  Mr.  Bright  ad- 
dressed their  constituents  and  their  country- 
men in  vain.  The  fact  that  they  were  be- 
lieved to  be  opposed  on  principle  to  all  wars 
put  them  out  of  court  in  public  estimation, 
as  Mr.  Kinglake  justly  observes,  when  they 
went  about  to  argue  against  this  particular 
war. 

In  the  Cabinet  itself  there  were  men  who 
disliked  the  idea  of  a war  quite  as  much  as 
they  did.  Lord  Aberdeen  detested  war,  and 
thought  it  so  absurd  a way  of  settling  na- 
tional disputes,  that  almost  until  the  first 
cannon-shot  had  been  fired  he  could  not  bring 
himself  to  believe  in  the  possibility  of  the 
intelligent  English  people  being  drawn  into 
it.  Mr.  Gladstone  had  a conscientious  and  a 
sensitive  objection  to  war  in  general  as  a bru- 
tal and  an  unchristian  occupation,  although 
his  feelings  would  not  have  carried  him  so 
far  away  as  to  prevent  his  recognition  of  the 
fact  that  war  might  often  be  a just,  a neces- 
sary and  a glorious  undertaking  on  the  part 
of  a civilized  nation.  The  difficulties  of  the 
hour  were  considerably  enhanced  by  the 
differences  of  opinion  that  prevailed  in  the 
Cabinet. 

There  were  other  differences  there  as  well 
as  those  that  belonged  to  the  mere  abstract 
question  of  the  glory  or  the  guilt  of  war.  It 
soon  became  clear  that  two  parties  of  the 
Cabinet  looked  on  the  war  and  its  objects 
with  different  eyes  and  interests.  Lord 
Palmerston  wanted  simply  to  put  down  Rus- 
sia and  uphold  Turkey.  Others  were  spe- 
cially concerned  for  the  Christian  popula- 
tions of  Turkey  and  their  better  government 
Lord  Palmerston  not  merely  thought  that  the 
interests  of  England  called  for  some  check  to 
the  aggressiveness  of  Russia  ; he  liked  the 
Turk  for  himself  ; he  had  faith  in  the  future 
of  Turkey  : he  went  so  far  even  as  to  pro- 
claim his  belief  in  the  endurance  of  her  mil- 
itary power.  Give  Turkey  single-handed  a 
fair  chance,  he  argued,  and  she  would  beat 
Russia.  He  did  not  believe  either  in  the  disaf- 


fection of  the  Christian  populations  or  in  the 
stories  of  their  oppression.  He  regarded  all 
these  stories  as  part  of  the  plans  and  inven- 
tions of  Russia.  He  had  no  half-beliefs  in 
the  matter  at  all.  The  Christian  populations 
and  their  grievances  he  regarded  in  plain  lan- 
guage as  mere  humbugs  ; he  looked  upon  the 
Turk  as  a very  fine  fellow  whom  all  chivalric 
minds  ought  to  respect.  He  believed  all  that 
was  said  upon  the  one  side  and  nothing  upon 
the  other  ; he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  this 
long  ago,  and  no  arguments  or  facts  could 
now  shake  his  convictions.  A belief  of  this 
kind  may  have  been  very  unphilosophic.  It 
was  undoubtedly  in  many  respects  the  birth 
of  mere  prejudice  independent  of  fact  or 
reasoning.  But  the  temper  born  of  such  a 
belief  is  exactly  that  which  should  have  the 
making  of  a war  entrusted  to  it.  Lord  Pal- 
merston saw  his  way  straight  before  him. 
The  brave  Turk  had  to  be  supported  ; the 
wicked  Russian  had  to  be  put  down.  On  one 
side  there  were  Lord  Aberdeen,  who  did  not 
believe  anyone  seriously  meant  to  be  so  bar- 
barous as  to  go  to  war,  and  Mr.  Gladstone, 
who  shrank  from  war  in  general  and  was 
not  yet  quite  certain  whether  England  had 
any  right  to  undertake  this  war  ; the  two  be- 
ing furthermore  concerned  far  more  for  the 
welfare  of  Turkey’s  Christian  subjects  than 
for  the  stability  of  Turkey  or  the  humiliation 
of  Russia.  On  the  other  side  was  Lord  Pal- 
merston, gay,  resolute,  clear  as  to  his  own 
purpose,  convinced  to  the  heart’s  core  of 
everything  which  just  then  it  was  for  the  ad- 
vantage of  bis  cause  to  believe.  It  was  im- 
possible to  doubt  on  which  side  were  to  be 
found  the  materials  for  the  successful  con- 
duct of  the  enterprise  which  was  now  so  pop- 
ular with  the  country.  The  most  conscien- 
tious men  might  differ  about  the  prudence  or 
the  moral  propriety  of  the  war  ; but  to  those 
who  once  accepted  its  necessity  and  wished 
our  side  to  win,  there  could  be  no  possible 
doubt,  even  for  members  of  the  Peace  Soci- 
ety, as  to  the  importance  of  having  Lord  Pal- 
merston either  at  the  head  of  affairs  or  in 
charge  of  the  war  itself.  The  moment  the 
war  actually  broke  out  it  became  evident  to 
everyone  that  Palmerston’s  interval  of  com- 
parative inaction  and  obscurity  was  well  nigh 
over. 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  INVASION  OP  THE  CRIMEA. 

England  then  and  France  entered  the  war 
as  allies.  Lord  Raglan,  formerly  Lord  Fitz- 
roy  Somerset,  an  old  pupil  of  the  Great  Duke 
in  the  Peninsular  War,  and  who  had  lost  his 
right  arm  serving  under  Wellington  at  Wat- 
erloo, was  appointed  to  command  the  English 
forces.  Marshal  St.  Arnaud,  a bold,  brilliant 
soldier  of  fortune,  was  entrusted  by  the  Em- 
peror of  the  French  with  the  leadership  of 
the  soldiers  of  France.  The  allied  forces 
went  out  to  the  East  and  assembled  at  Varna, 
on  the  Black  Sea  shore,  from  which  they 
were  to  make  their  descent  on  the  Crimea. 
The  war,  meantime,  had  gone  badly  for  the 
Emperor  of  Russia  in  his  attempt  to  crush 
the  Turks.  The  Turks  had  found  in  Omar 
Pasha  a commander  of  remarkable  ability 
and  energy  ; and  they  had  in  one  or  two  in- 
stances received  the  unexpected  aid  and 
counsel  of  clever  and  successful  Englishmen. 
A singularly  brilliant  episode  in  the  opening 
part  of  the  war  was  the  defence  of  the  earth- 
works of  Silistria,  on  the  Bulgarian  bank  of 
the  Danube,  by  a body  of  Turkish  troops  un- 
der the  directions  of  two  young  Englishmen, 
Captain  Butler,  of  the  Ceylon  Rifles,  and 
Lieutenant  Nasmyth,  of  the  East  India  Com- 
pany’s Service.  These  young  soldiers  had 
voluntarily  undertaken  the  danger  and  re- 
sponsibility of  the  defence.  Butler  was  kill- 
ed, but  the  Russians  were  completely  foiled 
and  had  to  raise  the  siege.  At  Giurgevo  and 
other  places  the  Russians  were  likewise  re- 
pulsed ; and  the  invasion  of  the  Danubian 
provinces  was  already,  to  all  intents,  a fail- 
ure. 


§8 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


Mr.  Kinglake  and  other  writers  have  argu- 
ed that  but  for  the  ambition  of  the  Emperor 
of  the  French  and  the  excited  temper  of  the 
English  people  the  war  might  well  have  end- 
ed then  and  there.  The  Emperor  of  Russia 
had  found,  it  is  contended,  that  he  could  not 
maintain  an  invasion  of  European  Turkey  ; 
his  fleet  was  confined  to  its  ports  in  the 
Black  Sea,  and  there  was  nothing  for  him 
but  to  make  peace.  But  we  confess  we  do 
not  see  with  what  propriety  or  wisdom  the 
allies  having  entered  on  the  enterprise  at  all 
could  have  abandoned  it  at  such  a moment 
and  allowed  the  Czar  to  escape  thus  merely 
scotched.  However  brilliant  and  gratifying 
the  successes  obtained  against  the  Russians, 
they  were  but  a series  of  what  might  be  call- 
ed outpost  actions.  They  could  not  be  sup- 
posed to  have  tested  the  resources  of  Russia 
or  weakened  her  strength.  They  had  hum- 
bled and  vexed  her  just  enough  to  make  her 
doubly  resentful  and  no  more.  It  seems  im- 
possible to  suppose  that  such  trivial  disasters 
could  have  affected  in  the  slightest  degree  the 
historic  march  of  Russian  ambition,  suppos- 
ing such  a movement  to  exist.  If  we  allow 
the  purpose  with  which  England  entered  the 
war  to  be  just  and  reasonable,  then  we  think 
the  instinct  of  the  English  people  was  sound 
and  true  which  would  have  refused  to  allow 
Russia  to  get  off  with  one  or  two  trifling 
Checks,  and  to  nurse  her  wrath  and  keep  her 
Vengeance  waiting  for  a better  chance  some 
Other  time.  The  allies  went  on.  They  sail- 
ed from  Yarna  for  the  Crimea  nearly  three 
months  after  the  raising  of  the  siege  of  Silis- 
tria. 

There  is  much  discussion  as  to  the  original 
author  of  the  project  for  the  invasion  of  the 
Crimea.  The  Emperor  Napoleon  has  had  it 
ascribed  to  him  ; so  has  Lord  Palmerston  ; 
so  has  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  ; so,  according 
to  Mr.  Kinglake,  has  the  Times  newspaper. 
It  does  not  much  concern  us  to  know  in 
whom  the  idea  originated,  but  it  is  of  some 
importance  to  know  that  it  was  essentially  a 
Civilian’s  and  not  a soldier’s  idea.  It  took 
possession  almost  simultaneously,  so  far  as 
we  can  observe,  of  the  minds  of  several 
statesmen,  and  it  had  a sudden  fascination 
for  the  public.  The  Emperor  Nicholas  had 
raised  and  sheltered  his  Black  Sea  fleet  at 
Sebastopol.  That  fleet  had  sallied  forth  from 
Sebastopol  to  commit  what  was  called  the 
massacre  of  Sinope.  Sebastopol  was  the 

Seat  arsenal  of  Russia.  It  was  the  point 
om  which  Turkey  was  threatened  ; from 
which,  it  was  universally  believed,  the  em- 
bodied ambition  of  Russia  was  one  day  to 
make  its  most  formidable  effort  of  aggres- 
sion. Within  the  fence  of  its  vast  sea-forts 
the  fleet  of  the  Black  Sea  lay  screened. 
Prom  the  moment  when  the  vessels  of  Eng- 
land and  France  entered  the  Euxine  the  Rus- 
sian fleet  had  withdrawn  behind  the  curtain 
of  these  defences,  and  was  seen  upon  the 
open  waves  no  more.  If,  therefore,  Sebas- 
topol could  be  taken  or  destroyed  it  would 
seem  as  if  the  whole  material  fabric,  put  to- 
gether at  such  cost  and  labor  for  the  execu- 
tion of  the  schemes  of  Russia,  would  be  shat- 
tered at  a blow.  There  seemed  a dramatic 
justice  in  the  idea.  It  could  not  fail  to  com- 
mend itself  to  the  popular  mind. 

Mr.  Kinglake  has  given  the  world  an  amus- 
ing picture  of  the  manner  in  which  the  de- 
spatch of  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  ordering 
the  invasiou  of  the  Crimea — for  it  really 
amounted  to  an  order — was  read  to  his  col- 
leagues in  the  Cabinet.  It  was  a despatch  of 
the  utmost  importance,  for  the  terms  in 
which  it  pressed  the  project  on  Lord  Raglan 
really  rendered  it  almost  impossible  for  the 
commander-in-chief  to  use  his  own  discre- 
tion. It  ought  to  have  been  considered  sen- 
tence by  sentence,  word  by  word.  It  was 
read,  Mr.  Kinglake  affirms,  to  a number  of 
Cabinet  Ministers,  most  of  whom  had  fallen 
fast  asleep.  The  day  was  warm,  he  says  ; 
the  despatch  was  long ; the  reading  was 
somewhat  monotonous.  Most  of  those  who 


tried  to  listen  found  the  soporific  influence  ir- 
resistible. As  Sam  Weller  would  have  said, 
poppies  were  nothing  to  it.  The  statesmen 
fell  asleep  ; and  there  was  no  alteration  made 
in  the  despatch.  All  this  is  very  amusing  ; 
and  it  is,  we  believe,  true  enough  that  at  the 
particular  meeting  to  which  Mr.  Kinglake  re- 
fers there  was  a good  deal  of  nodding  of 
sleepy  heads  and  closing  of  tired  eyelids. 
But  it  is  not  fair  to  say  that  these  slumbers 
had  anything  to  do  with  the  subsequent 
events  of  the  war.  The  reading  of  the  de- 
spatch was  purely  a piece  of  formality  ; for 
the  project  it  was  to  recommend  had  been 
discussed  very  fully  before,  and  the  minds  of 
most  members  of  the  Cabinet  were  finally 
made  up.  The  28th  of  June,  1854,  was  the 
day  of  the  slumbering  Cabinet.  But  Lord 
Palmerston  had  during  the  whole  of  the  pre- 
vious fortnight  at  least  been  urging  on  the 
Cabinet,  and  on  individual  members  of  it 
separately,  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  in  espe- 
cial, the  project  of  an  invasion  of  the  Crimea 
and  an  attempt  on  Sebastopol.  With  all  the 
energy  and  strenuousness  of  his  nature  he 
had  been  urging  this  by  arguments  in  the 
Cabinet,  by  written  memoranda  for  the  con- 
sideration of  each  member  of  the  Cabinet 
separately,  and  by  long  earnest  letters  ad- 
dressed to  particular  members  of  the  Cabinet. 
Many  of  these  documents,  of  the  existence 
of  which  Mr.  Kinglake  was  doubtless  not 
aware  when  he  set  down  his  vivacious  and 
satirical  account  of  the  sleeping  Cabinet, 
have  since  been  published.  The  plan  had 
also  been  greatly  favored  and  much  urged  by 
the  Emperor  of  the  French  before  the  day  of 
the  sleep  of  the  statesmen  ; indeed,  as  has 
been  said  already,  he  receives  from  many  per- 
sons the  credit  of  having  originated  it.  The 
plan,  therefore,  good  or  bad,  was  thoroughly 
known  to  the  Cabinet,  and  had  been  argued 
for  and  against  over  and  over  again  before 
the  Duke  of  Newcastle  read  aloud  to  drowsy 
ears  the  despatch  recommending  it  to  the 
commander-in-chief  of  the  British  forces  in 
the  field.  The  perusal  of  the  despatch  was  a 
mere  form.  It  would  indeed  have  been  bet- 
ter if  the  most  wearied  statesman  had  con- 
trived to  pay  a full  attention  to  it,  but  the 
want  of  such  respect  in  no  wise  affected  the 
policy  of  the  country.  It  is  a pity  to  have 
to  spoil  so  amusing  a story  as  Mr.  King- 
lake’s  ; but  the  commonplace  truth  has  to  be 
told  that  the  invasion  of  the  Crimea  was  not 
due  to  the  crotchet  of  one  minister  and  the 
drowsiness  of  all  the  rest. 

The  invasion  of  the  Crimea,  however,  was 
not  a soldier’s  project.  It  was  not  welcom- 
ed by  the  English  or  the  French  commander. 
It  was  undertaken  by  Lord  Raglan  out  of  def- 
erence to  the  recommendations  of  the  Gov- 
ernment ; and  by  Marshal  St.  Arnaud  out  of 
deference  to  the  Emperor  of  the  French,  and 
because  Lord  Raglan  too  did  not  see  his  way 
to  decline  the  responsibility  of  it.  The  allied 
forces  were  therefore  conveyed  to  the  south- 
western shore  of  the  Crimea,  and  effected  a 
landing  in  Kalamita  Bay,  a short  distance 
north  of  the  point  at  which  the  river  Alma 
tuns  into  the  sea.  Sebastopol  itself  lies  about 
thirty  miles  to  the  south  ; and  then  more 
southward  still,  divided  by  the  bulk  of  a jut- 
ting promontory  from  Sebastopol,  is  the  har- 
bor of  Balaklava.  The  disembarkation  be- 
gan on  the  morning  of  September  14,  1854. 
It  was  completed  on  the  fifth  day  ; and  there 
were  then  some  27,000  English,  30,000 
French,  and  7000  Turks  landed  on  the 
shores  of  Catherine  the  Great’s  Crimea.  The 
landing  was  effected  without  any  opposition 
from  the  Russians.  On  September  19  the 
allies  marched  out  of  their  encampments  and 
moved  southward  in  the  direction  of  Sebasto- 
pol. They  had  a skirmish  or  two  with  a re- 
connoitring force  of  Russian  cavalry  and 
Cossacks  ; but  they  had  no  business  of  genu- 
ine war  until  they  reached  the  nearer  bank  of 
the  Alma.  The  Russians  in  great  strength 
had  taken  up  a splendid  position  on  the 
heights  that  fringed  the  other  side  of  the 


river.  The  allied  forces  reached  the  Alma 
about  noon  on  September  20.  They  found 
that  they  had  to  cross  the  river  in  the  face  of 
the  Russian  batteries  armed  with  heavy  guns 
on  the  highest  point  of  the  hills  or  bluffs,  of 
scattered  artillery,  and  of  dense  masses  of  in- 
fantry which  covered  the  hills.  The  Rus- 
sians were  under  the  command  of  Prince 
Mentschikoff.  It  is  certain  that  Prince 
Mentschikoff  believed  his  position  unassaila- 
ble, and  was  convinced  that  his  enemies  were 
delivered  into  his  hands  when  he  saw  the  al- 
lies approach  and  attempt  to  effect  the  cross- 
ing of  the  river.  He  had  allowed  them,  of 
deliberate  purpose,  to  approach  thus  far.  He 
might  have  attacked  them  on  their  landing, 
or  on  their  two  days’  march  towards  the 
river.  But  he  did  not  choose  to  do  anything 
of  the  kind.  He  had  carefully  sought  out  a 
strong  and  what  he  considered  an  impregna- 
ble position.  He  had  found  it,  as  he  believ- 
ed, on  the  south  bank  of  the  Alma ; and  there 
he  was  simply  biding  his  time.  His  idea 
was  that  he  could  hold  his  ground  for  some 
days  against  the  allies  with  ease  ; that  he 
would  keep  them  there,  play  with  them,  un- 
til the  great  reinforcements  he  was  expecting 
could  come  to  him  ; and  then  he  would  sud- 
denly take  the  offensive  and  crush  the  en- 
emy. He  proposed  to  make  of  the  Alma  and 
its  banks  the  grave  of  the  invaders.  But 
with  characteristic  arrogance  and  lack  of  care 
he  had  neglected  some  of  the  very  precau- 
tions which  were  essentially  necessary  to  se- 
cure any  position,  however  strong.  He  had  not 
taken  the  pains  to  make  himself  certain  that 
every  easy  access  to  his  position  was  closed 
against  the  attack  of  the  enemy.  The  attack 
was  made  with  desperate  courage  on  the  part 
of  the  allies,  but  without  any  great  skill  of 
leadership  or  tenacity  of  discipline.  It  was 
rather  a pell-mell  sort  of  fight,  in  which  the 
headlong  courage  and  the  indomitable  obsti- 
nacy of  the  English  and  French  troops  carried 
all  before  them  at  last.  A study  of  the  battle 
is  of  little  profit  to  the  ordinary  reader.  It 
was  an  heroic  scramble.  There  was  little  co- 
herence of  action  between  the  allied  forces. 
But  there  was  happily  an  almost  total  absence 
of  generalship  on  the  part  of  the  Russians. 
The  soldiers  of  the  Czar  fought  stoutly  and 
stubbornly  as  they  have  always  done  ; but 
they  could  not  stand  up  against  the  blended 
vehemence  and  obstinacy  of  the  English  and 
French.  The  river  was  crossed,  the  opposite 
heights  were  mounted,  Prince  Mentscliikoff’s 
great  redoubt  was  carried,  the  Russians  were 
driven  from  the  field,  the  allies  occupied 
their  ground  ; the  victory  was  to  the  West- 
ern Powers.  Indeed  it  would  not  be  unfair 
to  say  that  the  victory  was  to  the  English  ; 
owing  to  whatever  cause,  the  French  did  not 
take  that  share  in  the  heat  of  the  battle 
which  their  strength  and  their  military  genius 
might  have  led  men  to  expect.  St.  Arnaud, 
their  commander-in-chief,  was  in  wretch- 
ed health,  on  the  point  of  death  in  fact ; 
he  was  in  no  condition  to  guide  the  battle  ; a 
brilliant  enterprise  of  General  Bosquet  was 
ill-supported  and  had  nearly  proved  a fail- 
ure ; and  Prince  Napoleon’s  division  got 
hopelessly  jammed  up  and  confused.  Per- 
haps it  would  be  fairer  to  say  that  in  the  con- 
fusion and  scramble  of  the  whole  affair  we 
were  more  lucky  than  the  French.  If  a 
number  of  men  are  rushing  headlong  and  in 
the  dark  towards  some  distant  point,  one 
may  run  against  an  unthought-of  obstacle 
and  fall  down  and  so  lose  his  chance,  while 
his  comrade  happens  to  meet  with  no  such 
stumbling-block  and  goes  right  on.  Perhaps 
this  illustration  may  not  unfairly  distribute 
the  parts  taken  in  the  battle.  It  would  be 
superfluous  to  say  that  the  French  fought 
splendidly  where  they  had  any  real  chance  of 
fighting.  But  the  luck  of  the  day  was  not 
with  them.  On  all  sides  the  battle  was 
fought  without  generalship.  On  all  sides  the 
bravery  of  the  officers  and  men  was  worthy 
of  any  general.  Our  men  were  the  luckiest. 
They  saw  the  heights  ; they  saw  the  enemy 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


99 


there  ; they  made  for  him  ; they  got  at  him  ; 
they  would  not  go  back  ; and  so  he  had  to 

five  way.  That  was  the  history  of  the  day. 

he  big  scramble  was  all  over  in  a few 
hours.  The  first  field  was  fought,  and  we 
had  won. 

The  Russians  ought  to  have  been  pursued. 
They  themselves  fully  expected  a pursuit. 
They  retreated  in  something  like  utter  confu- 
sion, eager  to  put  the  Katcha  river,  which 
runs  south  of  the  Alma  and  with  a somewhat 
similar  course,  between  them  and  the  imag- 
inary pursuers.  Had  they  been  followed  to 
the  Katcha  they  might  have  been  all  made 
prisoners  or  destroyed.  But  there  was  no 
pursuit.  Lord  Raglan  was  eager  to  follow 
up  the  victory  ; but  the  French  had  as  yet 
hardly  any  cavalry,  and  Marshal  St.  Arnaud 
would  not  agree  to  any  further  enterprise 
that  day.  Lord  Raglan  believed  that  he 
ought  not  to  persist  ; and  nothing  was  done. 
The  Russians  were  unable  at  first  to  believe 
in  their  good  fortune.  It  seemed  to  them 
for  a long  time  impossible  that  any  command- 
ers in  the  world  could  have  failed,  under 
conditions  so  tempting,  to  follow  a flying 
and  disordered  enemy. 

Except  for  the  bravery  of  those  who 
fought,  the  battle  was  not  much  to  boast  of. 
The  allies  together  considerably  outnumber- 
ed the  Russians,  although,  from  the  causes 
we  have  mentioned,  the  Englishmen  were 
left  throughout  the  greater  part  of  the  day  to 
eucounter  an  enemy  numerically  superior, 
posted  on  difficult  and  commanding  heights. 
But  it  was  the  first  great  battle  which  for 
nearly  forty  years  our  soldiers  had  fought 
with  a civilized  enemy.  The  military  author- 
ities and  the  country  were  well  disposed  to 
make  the  most  of  it.  At  this  distance  of 
time  it  is  almost  touching  to  read  some  of  the 
heroic  contemporaneous  descriptions  of  the 
great  scramble  of  the  Alma.  It  might  almost 
seem  as  if,  in  the  imaginings  of  the  enthusi- 
astic historians,  Englishmen  had  never 
mounted  heights  and  defeated  superior  num- 
bers before.  The  sublime  triumphs  against 
every  adverse  condition  which  had  been  won 
by  the  genius  of  a Marlborough  or  a Wel- 
lington could  not  have  been  celebrated  in 
language  of  more  exalted  dithyrambic  pomp. 
The  gallant  medley  on  the  banks  of  the  Alma 
and  the  fruitless  interval  of  inaction  that  fol- 
lowed it  were  told  of  as  if  men  were  speak- 
ing of  some  battle  of  the  gods. 

Very  soon,  however,  a different  note  came 
to  be  sounded.  The  campaign  had  been 
opened  under  conditions  differing  from  those 
of  most  campaigns  that  went  before  it. 
Science  had  added  many  new  discoveries  to 
the  art  of  war.  Literature  had  added  one  re- 
markable contribution  of  her  own  to  the  con- 
ditions amid  which  campaigns  were  to  be 
carried  on.  She  had  added  the  “ special  cor- 
respondent. ’ ’ The  old-fashioned  historiogra- 
pher of  wars  travelled  to  phase  sovereigns 
and  minister  to  the  self-conceit  of  conquer- 
ors. The  modern  special  correspondent  had 
a very  different  purpose.  He  watched  the 
movements  of  armies  and  criticised  the  policy 
of  generals  in  the  interest  of  some  journal, 
which  for  its  part  was  concerned  only  for 
the  information  of  the  public.  No  favor 
that  courts  or  monarchs  could  bestow  was 
worthy  a moment’s  consideration  in  the  mind 
even  of  the  most  selfish  proprietor  of  a news 
paper  when  compared  with  the  reward  which 
the  public  could  give  to  him  and  to  his  pa- 
per for  quick  and  accurate  news  and  trust- 
worthy comment.  The  business  of  the  spe- 
cial correspondent  has  grown  so  much  since 
the  Crimean  War  that  we  are  now  inclined 
to  look  back  upon  the  war  correspondents 
of  those  days  almost  as  men  then  did  upon 
the  old-fashioned  historiographer.  The  war 
correspondent  now  scrawls  his  despatches  as 
he  sits  in  his  saddle  under  the  fire  of  the  en- 
emy ; he  scrawls  them  with  a pencil,  noting 
and  describing  each  incident  of  the  fight,  so 
far  as  he  can  see  it,  as  coolly  as  if  he  were  de- 
scribing a review  of  volunteers  in  Hyde 


Park  ; and  he  contrives  to  send  off  his  narra- 
tive by  telegraph  before  the  victor  in  the 
fight  has  begun  to  pursue,  or  has  settled 
down  to  hold  the  ground  he  won  ; and  the 
war  correspondent’s  story  is  expected  to  be 
as  brilliant  and  picturesque  in  style  as  it 
ought  to  be  exact  and  faithful  in  its  state- 
ments. In  the  days  of  the  Crimea  things  had 
not  advanced  quite  so  far  as  that ; the  war 
was  well  on  before  the  submarine  telegraph 
between  Varna  and  the  Crimea  allowed  of 
daily  reports  ; but  the  feats  of  the  war  cor- 
respondent then  filled  men’s  minds  with 
wonder.  When  the  expedition  was  leaving 
England  it  was  accompanied  by  a special  cor- 
respondent from  each  of  the  great  daily  pa- 
pers of  London.  The  Times  sent  out  a repre- 
sentative whose  name  almost  immediately  be- 
came celebrated — Mr.  William  Howard  Rus- 
sell, the  preux  chevalier  of  war  correspondents 
in  that  day,  as  Mr.  Archibald  Forbes  of  the 
Daily  News  is  in  this.  Mr.  Russell  rendered 
some  service  to  the  English  army  and  to  hi3 
country,  however,  which  no  brilliancy  of  lit- 
erary style  would  alone  have  enabled  him  to 
do.  It  was  to  his  great  credit  as  a man  of 
judgment  and  observation  that,  being  a 
civilian  who  had  never  before  seen  one 
puff  of  war-smoke,  he  was  able  to  distin- 
guish between  the  confusion  inseparable 
from  all  actual  levying  of  war  and  the  con- 
fusion that  comes  of  distinctly  bad  ad- 
ministration. To  the  unaccustomed  eye  of 
an  ordinary  civilian  the  whole  progress  of  a 
campaign,  the  development  of  a battle,  the 
arrangements  of  the  commissariat,  appear, 
at  any  moment  of  actual  pressure,  to  be  noth- 
ing but  a mass  of  confusion.  He  is  accus- 
tomed in  civil  life  to  find  everything  in  its 
proper  place,  and  every  emergency  well  pro- 
vided for.  When  he  is  suddenly  plunged  in- 
to the  midst  of  a campaign  he  is  apt  to  think 
that  everything  must  be  going  wrong  ; or 
else  he  assumes  contentedly  that  the  whole  is 
in  the  hands  of  persons  who  know  better  than 
he,  and  that  it  would  be  absurd  on  his  part  to 
attempt  to  criticise  the  arrangements  of  the 
men  whose  business  it  is  to  understand  them. 
Mr.  Russell  soon  saw  that  there  was  confu- 
sion ; and  he  had  the  soundness  of  judgment 
to  know  that  the  confusion  was  that  of  a 
breaking-down  system.  Therefore,  while 
the  fervor  of  delight  in  the  courage  and  suc- 
cess of  our  army  was  still  fresh  in  the  minds 
of  the  public  at  home,  while  every  music-hall 
was  ringing  with  the  cheap  rewards  of  valor 
in  the  shape  of  popular  glorifications  of  our 
commanders  and  our  soldiers,  the  readers  of  the 
Times  began  to  learn  that  things  were  faring 
badly  indeed  with  the  conquering  army  of 
the  Alma.  The  ranks  were  thinned  by  the 
ravages  of  cholera.  The  men  were  pursued 
by  cholera  to  the  very  battle  field,  Lord  Rag- 
lan himself  said.  No  system  can  charm 
away  all  the  effects  of  climate  ; but  it  ap- 
peared only  too  soon  that  the  arrangements 
made  to  encounter  the  indirect  and  inevitable 
dangers  of  a campaign  were  miserably  in- 
efficient. The  hospitals  were  in  a wretchedly 
disorganized  condition.  Stores  of  medicines 
and  strengthening  food  were  decaying  in 
places  where  no  one  wanted  them  or  could 
well  get  at  them,  while  men  were  dying  in 
hundreds  among  our  tents  in  the  Crimea  for 
lack  of  them.  The  system  of  clothing,  of 
transport,  of  feeding,  of  nursing — everythin" 
had  broken  down.  Ample  provisions  had 
been  got  together  and  paid  for;  and  when  they 
came  to  be  needed  no  one  knew  where  to  get 
at  them.  The  special  correspondent  of  the 
Times  and  other  correspondents  continued  to 
din  these  things  into  the  ears  of  the  public  at 
home.  Exultation  began  to  give  way  to  a 
feeling  of  dismay.  The  patriotic  anger 
against  the  Russians  was  changed  for  a mood 
of  deep  indignation  against  our  own  authori- 
ties and  our  own  war  administration.  It 
soon  became  apparent  to  every  one  that  the 
whole  campaign  had  been  planned  on  the 
assumption  that  it  was  to  be  like  the  career 
of  the  hero  whom  Byron  laments,  “ brief, 


brave,  and  glorious.”  Our  military  authori- 
ties here  at  home — we  do  not  speak  of  the 
commanders  in  the  field — had  made  up  their 
minds  that  Sebastopol  was  to  fall  like  an- 
other Jericho,  at  the  sound  of  the  war-trum- 
pets’ blast. 

Our  commanders  in  the  field  were,  on  the 
contrary,  rather  disposed  to  overrate  than  to 
underrate  the  strength  of  the  Russians.  It 
was,  therefore,  somewhat  like  the  condition 
of  things  described  in  Macaulay’s  ballad: 
those  behind  cried  forward,  those  in  front 
called  back.  It  is  very  likely  that  if  a sud- 
den dash  had  been  made  at  Sebastopol  by 
land  and  sea,  it  might  have  been  taken  al- 
most at  the  very  opening  of  the  war.  But 
the  delay  gave  the  Russians  full  warning ; 
and  they  did  not  neglect  it.  On  the  third 
day  after  the  battle  of  the  Alma  the  Russians 
sank  seven  vessels  of  their  Black  Sea  fleet  at 
the  entrance  of  the  harbor  of  Sebastopol. 
This  was  done  full  in  the  sight  of  the  allied 
fleets,  who  at  first,  misunderstanding  the 
movements  going  on  among  the  enemy, 
thought  the  Russian  squadron  were  about  to 
come  out  from  their  shelter  and  try  conclu- 
sions with  the  Western  ships.  But  the  real 
purpose  of  the  Russians  became  soon  appar- 
ent. Under  the  eye  of  the  allies  the  seven 
vessels  slowly  settled  down  and  sank  in  the 
water  until  at  last  only  the  tops  of  their 
masts  were  to  be  seen  ; and  the  entrance  of 
the  harbor  was  barred  as  by  sunken  rocks 
against  any  approach  of  an  enemy’s  ship. 
There  was  an  end  to  every  dream  of  a sud- 
den capture  of  Sebastopol. 

The  allied  armies  moved  again  from  their 
positions  on  the  Alma  ; but  they  did  not  di- 
rect their  march  to  the  north  side  of  Sebasto- 
pol. They  made  for  Balaklava,  which  lies 
south  of  the  city,  on  the  other  side  of  a prom- 
ontory, and  which  has  a port  that  might 
enable  them  to  secure  a constant  means  of 
communication  between  the  armies  and  the 
fleets.  To  reach  Balaklava  the  allied  forces 
had  to  undertake  a long  and  fatiguing  flank 
march,  passing  Sebastopol  on  their  right. 
They  accomplished  the  march  in  safety  and 
occupied  the  heights  above  Balaklava,  while 
the  fleets  appeared  at  the  same  time  in  the 
harbor.  Sebastopol  was  but  a few  miles  off, 
and  preparations  were  at  once  made  for  am 
attack  on  it  by  land  and  sea.  On  October  17 
the  attack  began.  It  was  practically  a fail- 
ure. Nothing  better  indeed  could  well  have 
been  expected.  The  fleet  could  not  get  near 
enough  to  the  sea-forts  of  Sebastopol  to  make 
their  broadsides  of  auy  real  effect,  because  of 
the  shallow  water  and  the  sunken  ships  ; and 
although  the  attack  from  the  land  was  vigor- 
ous and  was  fiercely  kept  up,  yet  it  could  not 
carry  its  object.  It  became  clear  that  Sebas- 
topol was  not  to  be  taken  by  any  coup  de 
main  ; and  the  allies  had  not  men  enough  to 
invest  it.  They  were,  therefore,  to  some  ex- 
tent themselves  in  the  condition  of  a besieged 
force,  for  the  Russians  had  a large  army  out- 
side Sebastopol  ready  to  make  every  sacrifice 
for  the  purpose  of  preventing  the  English 
and  French  from  getting  even  a chance  of 
undisturbed  operations  against  it. 

The  Russians  attacked  the  allies  fiercely  ou 
October  25,  in  the  hope  of  obtaining  posses- 
sion of  Balaklava.  The  attempt  was  bold 
and  brilliant ; but  it  was  splendidly  repulsed. 
Never  did  a day  of  battle  do  more  cred- 
it to  English  courage,  or  less  perhaps  to  Eng- 
lish generalship.  The  cavalry  particularly 
distinguished  themselves.  It  was  in  great 
measure  on  our  side  a cavalry  action.  It 
will  be  memorable  in  all  English  history  as 
the  battle  in  which  occurred  the  famous 
charge  of  the  Light  Brigade.  Owing  to 
some  fatal  misconception  of  the  meaning  of 
an  order  from  the  commander-in-chief,  the 
Light  Brigade,  607  men  in  all,  charged  what 
has  been  rightly  described  as  V the  Russian 
army  in  position.”  The  brigade  was  com- 
posed of  118  men  of  the  4th  Light  Dragoons ; 
104  of  the  8th  Hussars  ; 110  of  the  11th  Hus- 
sars ; 130  of  the  13th  Light  Dragoons  ; and 


100 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


145  of  the  17th  Lancers.  Of  the  607  men 
198  came  back.  Long,  painful,  and  hopeless 
were  the  disputes  about  this  fatal  order.  The 
controversy  can  never  be  wholly  settled. 
The  officer  who  bore  the  order  was  one  of 
the  first  who  fell  in  the  outset.  All  Europe, 
all  the  world,  rang  with  wonder  and  admira- 
tion of  the  futile  and  splendid  charge.  The 
Poet  Laureate  sang  of  it  in  spirited  verse. 
Perhaps  its  best  epitaph  was  contained  in  the 
celebrated  comment  ascribed  to  the  French 
General  Bosquet,  and  which  has  since  be- 
come proverbial,  and  been  quoted  until  men 
are  well  nigh  tired  of  it — “ It  was  magnifi- 
cent, but  it  was  not  war.” 

Next  day  the  enemy  made  another  vigor- 
ous attack,  on  a much  larger  scale,  moving 
out  of  Sebastopol  itself,  and  were  again  re- 
pulsed. The  allies  were  able  to  prevent  the 
troops  who  made  the  sortie  from  co-operating 
with  the  Russian  army  outside  who  had  at- 
tacked at  Balaklava.  The  latter  were  endeav- 
oring to  entrench  themselves  at  the  little 
village  of  Inkerman,  lying  on  the  north  of 
Sebastopol ; but  the  stout  resistance  they  met 
with  from  the  allies  frustrated  their  plans. 
On  November  5 the  Russians  made  another 
grand  attack  on  the  allies,  chiefly  on  the 
British,  and  were  once  more  splendidly  re- 
pulsed. The  plateau  of  Inkerman  was  the 
principal  scene  of  the  struggle.  It  was  oc- 
cupied by  the  Guards  and  a few  British  regi- 
ments, on  whom  fell,  until  General  Bosquet 
with  his  French  was  able  to  come  to  their 
assistance,  the  task  of  resisting  a Russian 
army.  This  was  the  severest  and  the  fiercest 
engagement  of  the  campaign.  The  loss  to  the 
English  was  2612,  of  whom  145  were  officers. 
The  French  lost  about  1700.  The  Russians 
were  believed  to  have  lost  12,000  men  ; but 
at  no  time  could  any  clear  account  be  obtain- 
ed of  the  Russian  losses.  It  was  believed 
that  they  brought  a force  of  50,000  men  to 
the  attack.  Inkerman  was  described  at  the 
time  as  the  soldiers’  battle.  Strategy,  it  was 
said  everywhere,  there  was  none.  The  at- 
tack was  made  under  cover  of  a dark  and 
drizzling  mist.  The  battle  was  fought  for  a 
while  almost  absolutely  in  the  dark.  There 
wTas  hardly  any  attempt  to  direct  the  allies  by 
any  principles  of  scientific  warfare.  The 
soldiers  fought  stubbornly  a series  of  hand- 
to-hand  fights,  and  we  are  entitled  to  say  that 
the  better  men  won  in  the  end.  We  fully 
admit  that  it  was  a soldiers’  battle.  All  the 
comment  we  have  to  make  upon  the  epithet 
is,  that  we  do  not  exactly  know  which  of 
the  engagements  fought  in  the  Crimea  was 
anything  but  a soldiers’  battle.  Of  course 
with  the  soldiers  we  take  the  officers.  A bat- 
tle in  the  Crimea  with  which  generalship  had 
anything  particular  to  do  has  certainly  not 
come  under  the  notice  of  this  writer.  Mr. 
Kinglake  tells  that  at  Alma  Marshal  St.  Ar- 
naud,  the  French  commander-in-chief,  ad- 
dressing General  Canrobert  and  Prince  Na- 
poleon, said  : “ With  such  men  as  you  I have 
no  orders  to  give  ; I have  but  to  point  to  the 
enemy.”  This  seems  to  have  been  the  gen- 
eral principle  on  which  the  commanders  con- 
ducted the  campaign.  There  were  the  en- 
emy’s forces — let  the  men  go  at  them  any 
way  they  could.  Nor  under  the  circumstan- 
ces could  anything  much  better  have  been 
done.  When  orders  were  given  it  appeared 
more  than  once  as  if  things  would  have  gone 
better  without  them.  The  soldier  won  his 
battle  always.  No  general  could  prevent 
him  from  doing  that. 

Meanwhile  what  were  people  saying  in 
England  ? They  were  indignantly  declaring 
that  the  whole  campaign  was  a muddle.  It 
was  evident  now  that  Sebastopol  was  not  go- 
ing to  fall  all  at  once  ; it  was  evident  too 
that  the  preparations  had  been  made  on  the 
assumption  that  it  must  fall  at  once.  To 
make  the  disappointment  more  bitter  at 
home  the  public  had  been  deceived  for  a few 
days  by  a false  report  of  the  taking  of  Sebas- 
topol ; and  the  disappointment  naturally  in- 
creased the  impatience  and  dissatisfaction  of 


Englishmen.  The  fleet  that  had  been  sent 
out  to  the  Baltic  came  back  without  having 
accomplished  anything  in  particular  ; and  al- 
though there  really  was  nothing  in  particular 
that  it  could  have  accomplished  under  the 
circumstances,  yet  many  people  were  as  an- 
gry as  if  it  had  culpably  allowed  the  enemy 
to  escape  it  on  the  open  seas.  The  sailing  of 
the  Baltic  fleet  had  indeed  been  preceded  by 
ceremonials  especially  calculated  to  make  any 
enterprise  ridiculous  which  failed  to  achieve 
some  startling  success.  It  was  put  under  the 
command  of  Sir  Charles  Napier,  a brave  old 
salt  of  the  fast-fading  school  of  Smollett's 
Commodore  Trunnion,  rough,  dashing,  bull- 
headed, likely  enough  to  succeed  where  sheer 
force  and  courage  could  win  victories,  but 
wanting  in  all  the  intellectual  qualities  of  a 
commander,  and  endowed  with  a violent 
tongue  and  an  almost  unmatched  indiscre- 
tion. Sir  Charles  Napier  was  a member  of  a 
family  famed  for  its  warriors  ; but  he  had 
not  anything  like  the  capacity  of  his  cousin, 
the  other  Sir  Charles  Napier,  the  conqueror 
of  Scinde,  or  the  intellect  of  Sir  William  Na- 
pier, the  historian  of  the  Peninsular  War. 
He  had  won  some  signal  and  surprising  suc- 
cesses in  the  Portuguese  civil  war  and  in 
Syria  ; all  under  conditions  wholly  different 
and  with  an  enemy  wholly  different  from 
those  he  would  have  to  encounter  in  the  Bal- 
tic. But  the  voice  of  admiring  friends  was 
tumultuously  raised  to  predict  splendid 
things  for  him  before  his  fleet  had  left  its 
port,  and  he  himself  quite  forgot  in  his 
rough  self-confidence  the  difference  between 
boasting  when  one  is  taking  off  his  armor 
and  boasting  when  one  is  only  putting  it  on. 
His  friends  entertained  him  at  a farewell  din- 
ner at  the  Reform  Club.  Lord  Palmerston 
was  present,  and  Sir  James  Graham,  the  First 
Lord  of  the  Admiralty,  and  a great  deal  of  ex- 
uberant nonsense  was  talked.  Lord  Palmer- 
ston, carried  away  by  his  natural  bonhomie 
and  his  high  animal  spirits,  showered  the 
most  extravagant  praises  upon  the  gallant 
admiral,  intermixed  with  jokes  which  set  the 
company  laughing  consumedly,  but  which 
read  by  the  outer  public  next  day  seemed  un- 
becoming preludes  to  an  expedition  that  was 
to  be  part  of  a great  war  and  of  terrible  na- 
tional sacrifices.  The  one  only  thing  that 
could  have  excused  the  whole  performance 
would  have  been  some  overwhelming  success 
on  the  part  of  him  who  was  its  hero.  But  it 
is  not  probable  that  a Dundonald  or  even  a 
Nelson  could  have  done  much  in  the  Baltic 
just  then  ; and  Napier  was  not  a Dundonald 
or  a Nelson.  The  Baltic  fleet  came  home 
safely  after  a while,  its  commander  having 
brought  with  him  nothing  but  a grievance 
which  lasted  him  all  the  remainder  of  his 
life.  The  public  were  amazed,  scornful, 
wrathful  ; they  began  to  think  that  they 
were  destined  to  see  nothing  but  failure  as 
the  fruit  of  the  campaign.  In  truth  they 
were  extravagantly  impatient.  Perhaps  they 
were  not  to  be  blamed.  Their  leaders,  who 
ought  to  have  known  better,  had  been  filling 
them  with  the  idea  that  they  had  nothing  to 
do  but  to  sweep  the  enemy  from  sea  and 
land. 

The  temper  of  a people  thus  stimulated 
and  thus  disappointed  is  almost  always  indis- 
criminating  and  unreasonable  in  its  cen- 
sure. The  first  idea  is  to  find  a victim.  The 
victim  on  whom  the  anger  of  a large  portion 
of  the  public  turned  in  this  instance  was  the 
Prince  Consort.  The  most  absurd  ideas,  the 
most  cruel  and  baseless  calumnies,  were  in 
circulation  about  him.  He  was  accused  of 
having  out  of  some  inscrutable  motive  made 
use  of  all  his  secret  influence  to  prevent  the 
success  of  the  campaign.  He  was  charged 
with  being  in  a conspiracy  with  Prussia, 
with  Russia,  with  no  one  knew  exactly 
whom,  to  weaken  the  strength  of  England, 
and  secure  a triumph  for  her  enemies. 
Stories  were  actually  told  at  one  time  of  his 
having  been  arrested  for  high  treason.  He 
had  in  one  of  his  speeches  about  this  time 


said  that  constitutional  government  was  un- 
der a heavy  trial,  and  could  only  pass  tri- 
umphantly through  it  if  the  country  would 
grant  its  confidence  to  her  Majesty’s  Govern- 
ment. In  this  observation,  as  the  whole  con- 
text of  the  speech  showed,  the  Prince  was 
only  explaining  that  the  Queen’s  Govern- 
ment were  placed  at  a disadvantage  in  the 
carrying  on  of  a war,  as  compared  with  a 
Government  like  that  of  the  Emperor  of  the 
French,  who  could  act  of  his  own  arbitrary 
will,  without  check,  delay,  or  control  on  the 
part  of  any  Parliamentary  body.  But  the 
speech  was  instantly  fastened  on  as  illustrat- 
ing the  Prince’s  settled  and  unconquerable 
dislike  of  all  constitutional  and  popular  prin- 
ciples of  government.  Those  who  opposed 
the  Prince  had  not  indeed  been  waiting  for 
his  speech  at  the  Trinity  House  dinner  to  de- 
nounce and  condemn  him  ; but  the  sentence 
in  that  speech  to  which  reference  has  been 
made  opened  upon  him  a new  torrent  of  hos- 
tile criticism.  The  charges  which  sprang  of 
this  heated  and  unjust  temper  on  the  part 
of  the  public  did  not  indeed  long  prevail 
against  the  Prince  Consort.  When  once  the 
subject  came  to  be  taken  up  in  Parliament 
it  was  shown  almost  in  a moment  that  there 
was  not  the  slightest  ground  or  excuse  for  any 
of  the  absurd  surmises  and  cruel  suspicions 
which  had  been  creating  so  much  agitation. 
The  agitation  collapsed  in  a moment.  But 
while  it  lasted  it  was  both  vehement  and  in- 
tense, and  gave  much  pain  to  the  Prince, 
and  far  more  pain  still  to  the  Queen  his 
wife. 

We  have  seen  more  lately  and  on  a larger 
scale  something  like  the  phenomenon  of  that 
time.  During  the  war  between  France  and 
Germany  the  people  of  Paris  went  nearly 
wild  with  the  idea  that  they  had  been  betray- 
ed, and  were  clamorous  for  victims  to  pun- 
ish anywhere  or  anyhow.  To  many  calm 
Englishmen  this  seemed  monstrously  unrea- 
sonable and  unworthy  ; and  the  French  peo- 
ple received  from  English  writers  many 
grave  rebukes  and  wise  exhortations.  But 
the  temper  of  the  English  public  at  one  pe- 
riod of  the  Crimean  War  was  becoming  very 
like  that  which  set  Paris  wild  during  the  dis- 
astrous struggle  with  Germany.  The  pas- 
sions of  peoples  are,  it  is  to  be  feared,  very 
much  alike  in  their  impulses  and  even  in 
their  manifestations  ; and  if  England  during 
the  Crimean  War  never  came  to  the  wild 
condition  into  which  Paris  fell  during  the 
later  struggle,  it  is  perhaps  rather  because  on 
the  whole  things  went  well  with  England 
than  in  consequence  of  any  very  great  supe- 
riority of  Englishmen  in  judgment  and  self- 
restraint  over  the  excitable  people  of  France. 
Certainly  those  who  remember  what  we  may 
call  the  dark  days  of  the  Crimean  campaign, 
when  disappointment  following  on  extrava- 
gant confidence  had  incited  popular  passion 
to  call  for  some  victim,  will  find  themselves 
slow  to  set  a limit  to  the  lengths  that  passion 
might  have  reached  if  the  Russians  had  actu- 
ally been  successful  even  in  one  or  two  bat- 
tles. 

The  winter  was  gloomy  at  home  as  well  as 
abroad.  The  news  constantly  arriving  from 
the  Crimea  told  only  of  devastation  caused 
by  foes  far  more  formidable  than  the  Rus- 
sians— sickness,  bad  weather,  bad  manage- 
ment. The  Black  Sea  was  swept  and 
scourged  by  terrible  storms.  The  destruction 
of  transport-ships  laden  with  winter  stores 
for  our  men  was  of  incalculable  injury  to 
the  army.  Clothing,  blanketing,  provisions, 
hospital  necessaries  of  all  kinds,  were  de- 
stroyed in  vast  quantities.  The  loss  of  life 
among  the  crews  of  the  vessels  was  im- 
mense. A storm  was  nearly  as  disastrous  in 
this  way  as  a battle.  On  shore  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  army  were  unspeakable.  The 
tents  were  torn  from  their  pegs  and  blown 
away.  The  officers  and  men  were  exposed  to 
the  bitter  cold  and  the  fierce  stormy  blasts. 
Our  soldiers  had  for  the  most  part  little  ex- 
perience or  even  idea  of  such  cold  as  they 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


101 


had  to  encounter  this  gloomy  winter  The 
intensity  of  the  cold  was  so  great  that  no  one 
might  dare  to  touch  any  metal  substance  in 
the  open  air  with  his  bare  hand  under  penalty 
of  leaving  the  skin  behind  him.  The  hospi- 
tals for  the  sick  and  wounded  at  Scutari  were 
in  a wretchedly  disorganized  condition. 
They  were  for  the  most  part  in  an  absolutely 
chaotic  condition  as  regards  arrangement  and 
supply.  In  some  instances  medical  stores 
were  left  to  decay  at  Varna,  or  were  found 
lying  useless  in  the  holds  of  vessels  in  Balak- 
lava  Bay,  which  were  needed  for  the  wound- 
ed at  Scutari.  The  medical  officers  were  able 
and  zealous  men  ; the  stores  were  provided 
and  paid  for  so  far  as  our  Government  was 
concerned  ; but  the  stores  were  not  brought 
to  the  medical  men.  These  had  their  hands 
all  but  idle,  their  eyes  and  souls  tortured  by 
the  sight  of  sufferings  which  they  were  una- 
ble to  relieve  for  want  of  the  commonest  ap- 
pliances of  the  hospital.  The  most  extraor- 
dinary instances  of  blunder  and  confusion 
were  constantly  coming  to  light.  Great  con- 
signments of  boots  arrived,  and  were  found 
to  be  all  for  the  left  foot.  Mules  for  the  con- 
veyance of  stores  were  contracted  for  and 
delivered,  but  delivered  so  that  they  came  in- 
to the  hands  of  the  Russians  and  not  of  us. 
Shameful  frauds  were  perpetrated  in  the  in- 
stance of  some  of  the  contracts  for  preserved 
meat.  “One’s  man’s  preserved  meat,”  ex- 
claimed Punch  with  bitter  humor,  “is  an- 
other man’s  poison.”  The  evils  of  the  hos- 
pital disorganization  were  happily  made  a 
means  of  bringing  about  a new  system  of  at- 
tending to  the  sick  and  wounded  in  war 
which  has  already  created  something  like  a 
revolution  in  the  manner  of  treating  the  vic- 
tims of  battle.  Mr.  Sidney  Herbert,  horri- 
fied at  the  way  in  which  things  were  managed 
in  Scutari  and  the  Crimea,  applied  to  a dis- 
tinguished woman  who  had  long  taken  a deep 
interest  in  hospital  reform  to  superintend  per- 
sonally the  nursing  of  the  soldiers.  Miss 
Florence  Nightingale  was  the  daughter  of  a 
^wealthy  English  country  gentleman.  She 
had  chosen  not  to  pass  her  life  in  fashionable 
or  aesthetic  inactivity  ; and  had  from  a very 
early  period  turned  her  attention  to  sanatory 
questions.  She  had  studied  nursing  as  a 
science  and  a system  ; had  made  herself  ac- 
quainted with  the  working  of  various  Conti- 
nental institutions  ; and  about  the  time  when 
the  war  broke  out  she  was  actually  engaged 
in  reorganizing  the  Sick  Governesses’  Insti- 
tution in  Harley  Street,  London.  To  her 
Mr.  Sidney  Herbert  turned.  He  offered  her, 
if  she  would  accept  the  task  he  proposed, 
plenary  authority  over  all  the  nurses,  and  an 
unlimited  power  of  drawing  on  the  Govern- 
ment for  whatever  she  might  think  necessary 
to  the  success  of  her  undertaking.  Miss 
Nightingale  accepted  the  task,  and  went  out 
to  Scutari  accompanied  by  some  women  of 
rank  like  her  own,  and  a trained  staff  of 
nurses.  They  speedily  reduced  chaos  into 
order  ; and  from  the  time  of  their  landing  in 
Scutari  there  was  at  least  one  department  of 
the  business  of  war  which  was  never  again  a 
subject  of  complaint.  The  spirit  of  the  chiv- 
alric  days  had  been  restored  under  better 
auspices  for  its  abiding  influence.  Ladies  of 
rank  once  more  devoted  themselves  to  the 
service  of  the  wounded  ; and  the  end  was 
come  of  the  Mrs.  Gamp  and  Mrs.  Prig  type  of 
nurse.  Sidney  Herbert,  in  his  letter  to  Miss 
Nightingale,  had  said  that  her  example,  if 
she  accepted  the  task  he  proposed,  would 
“multiply  the  good  to  all  time.”  These 
words  proved  to  have  no  exaggeration  in 
them.  We  have  never  seen  a war  since  in 
which  women  of  education  and  of  genuine 
devotion  have  not  given  themselves  up  to  the 
task  of  caring  for  the  wounded.  The  Geneva 
Convention  and  the  bearing  of  the  Red  Cross 
are  among  the  results  of  Florence  Nightin- 
gale’s work  in  the  Crimea. 

But  the  siege  of  Sebastopol  was  meanwhile 
dragging  heavily  along  ; and  sometimes  it  was 
not  quite  certain  which  ought  to  be  called 


the  besieged,  the  Russians  in  the  city  or  the 
allies  encamped  in  sight  of  it.  During  some 
months  the  allied  armies  did  little  or  noth- 
ing. The  commissariat  system  and  the  land 
transport  system  had  broken  down.  The 
armies  were  miserably  weakened  by  sick- 
ness. Cholera  was  ever  and  anon  raging 
anew  among  our  men.  Horses  and  mules 
were  dying  of  cold  and  starvation.  The 
roads  were  only  deep  irregular  ruts  filled  with 
mud  ; the  camp  was  a marsh  ; the  tents 
stood  often  in  pools  of  water  ; the  men  had 
sometimes  no  beds  but  straw  dripping  with 
wet ; and  hardly  any  bed  coverings.  Our 
unfortunate  Turkish  allies  were  in  a far  more 
wretched  plight  than  even  we  ourselves. 
The  authorities  who  ought  to  have  looked 
after  them  were  impervious  to  the  criticisms 
of  special  correspondents  and  unassailable  by 
Parliamentary  votes  of  censure.  A condem- 
nation of  the  latter  kind  was  hanging  over  our 
Government.  Lord  John  Russell  became 
impressed  with  the  conviction  that  the  Duke 
of  Newcastle  was  not  strong  enough  for  the 
post  of  War  Minister  ; and  he  wrote  to  Lord 
Aberdeen  urging  that  the  War  Department 
should  be  given  to  Lord  Palmerston.  Lord 
Aberdeen  replied  that  although  another  per- 
son might  have  been  a better  choice  when 
the  appointments  were  made  in  the  first  in- 
stance, yet  in  the  absence  of  any  proved  de- 
fect or  alleged  incapacity  there  was  no  suffi- 
cient ground  for  making  a kind  of  speculat- 
ive change.  Parliament  was  called  together 
before  Christmas ; and  after  the  Christmas 
recess  Mr.  Roebuck  gave  notice  that  he 
would  move  for  a select  committee  to  inquire 
into  the  condition  of  the  army  before  Sebas- 
topol, and  into  the  conduct  of  those  depart- 
ments of  the  Government  whose  duty  it  had 
been  to  minister  to  the  wants  of  the  army. 
Lord  John  Russell  did  not  believe  for  him- 
self that  the  motion  could  be  conscientiously 
resisted ; but  as  it  necessarily  involved  a 
censure  upon  some  of  his  colleagues,  he  did 
not  think  he  ought  to  remain  longer  in  the 
Ministry,  and  he  therefore  resigned  his  office. 
The  sudden  resignation  of  the  leader  of  the 
House  of  Commons  was  a death-blow  to  any 
plans  of  resistance  by  which  the  Government 
might  otherwise  have  thought  of  encounter- 
ing Mr.  Roebuck’s  motion.  Lord  Palmer- 
ston, although  Lord  John  Russell’s  course 
was  a marked  tribute  to  his  own  capacity, 
had  remonstrated  warmly  with  Russell  by 
letter  as  to  his  determination  to  resign. 
“ You  will  have  the  appearance,”  he  said, 
“ of  having  remained  in  office  aiding  in  car- 
rying on  a system  of  which  you  disapprove 
until  driven  out  by  Roebuck’s  announced 
notice  ; and  the  Government  will  have  the 
appearance  of  self-condemnation  by  flying 
from  a discussion  which  they  dare  not  face  ; 
while  as  regards  the  country  the  action  of 
the  executive  will  be  paralyzed  for  a time  in 
a critical  moment  of  a great  war,  with  an  im- 
pending negotiation,  and  we  shall  exhibit  to 
the  world  a melancholy  spectacle  of  disor- 
ganization among  our  political  men  at  home 
similar  to  that  which  has  prevailed  among 
our  military  men  abroad.”  The  remon- 
strance, however,  came  too  late,  even  if  it 
could  have  had  any  effect  at  any  time.  Mr. 
Roebuck’s  motion  came  on,  and  was  resisted 
with  vigor  by  Lord  Palmerston  and  Mr.  Glad- 
stone. Lord  Palmerston  insisted  that  the 
responsibility  ought  to  fall  not  on  the  Duke 
of  Newcastle  but  on  the  whole  Cabinet ; and 
with  a generosity  which  his  keenest  oppo- 
nents might  have  admitted  to  be  characteristic 
of  him,  he  accepted  the  task  of  defending  an 
Administration  whose  chief  blame  was  in  the 
eyes  of  most  persons  that  they  had  not  given 
the  control  of  the  war  into  his  hands.  Mr. 
Gladstone  declared  that  the  inquiry  sought 
for  by  the  resolution  could  lead  to  nothing 
but  “confusion  and  disturbance,  increased 
disasters,  shame  at  home  and  weakness 
abroad  ; it  would  convey  no  consolation  to 
those  whom  you  seek  to  aid,  but  it  would 
carry  malignant  joy  to  the  hearts  of  the  en- 


| emies  of  England.”  The  House  of  Com- 
j mons  was  not  to  be  moved  by  any  such  argu- 
ment or  appeal.  The  one  pervading  idea 
was  that  England  had  been  endangered 
and  shamed  by  the  break-down  of  her  army 
organization.  When  the  division  took  place 
305  members  voted  for  Mr.  Roebuck’s  mo- 
tion and  only  148  against.  The  majority 
against  ministers  was  therefore  157.  Every 
one  knows  what  a scene  usually  takes  place 
when  a Ministry  is  defeated  in  the  House  of 
Commons.  Cheering  again  and  again  re- 
newed, counter-cheers  of  defiance,  wild  ex- 
ultation, vehement  indignation,  a whole 
whirlpool  of  various  emotions  seething  in 
that  little  hall  in  St.  Stephen’s.  But  this 
time  there  was  no  such  outburst.  The 
House  could  hardly  realize  the  fact  that  the 
Ministry  of  all  the  talents  had  been  thus 
completely  and  ignominiously  defeated.  A 
dead  silence  followed  the  announcement  of 
the  numbers.  Then  there  was  a half-breath- 
less murmur  of  amazement  and  incredulity. 
The  Speaker  repeated  the  numbers,  and 
doubt  was  over.  It  was  still  uncertain  how 
the  House  would  express  its  feelings.  Sud- 
denly some  one  laughed.  The  sound  gave  a 
direction  and  a relief  to  perplexed,  pent-up 
emotion.  Shouts  of  laughter  followed.  Not 
merely  the  pledged  opponents  of  the  Govern- 
ment laughed.  Many  of  those  who  had  voted 
with  ministers  found  themselves  laughing 
too.  It  seemed  so  absurd,  so  incongruous, 
this  way  of  disposing  of  the  great  Coalition 
Government.  Many  must  have  thought  of 
the  night  of  fierce  debate,  little  more  than 
two  years  before,  when  Mr.  Disraeli,  then  on 
the  verge  of  his  fall  from  power  and  realizing 
fully  the  strength  of  the  combination  against 
him,  consoled  his  party  and  himself  for  the 
imminent  fatality  awaiting  them  by  the  de- 
fiant words,  “ I know  that  I have  to  face  a 
Coalition  ; the  combination  may  be  success- 
ful. A combination  has  before  this  been  suc- 
cessful ; but  coalitions,  though  they  may  be 
successful,  have  always  found  that  their 
triumphs  have  been  brief.  This  I know, 
that  England  does  not  love  coalitions.  ’ ’ Only 
two  years  had  passed  and  the  great  Coalition 
had  fallen,  overwhelmed  with  reproach 
and  popular  indignation,  and  amid  sudden 
shouts  of  laughter. 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR. 

On  February  15,  1855,  Lord  Palmerston 
wrote  to  his  brother  : “A  month  ago,  if  any 
man  had  asked  me  to  say  what  was  one  of 
the  most  improbable  events,  I should  have 
said  my  being  Prime  Minister.  Aberdeen 
was  there,  Derby  was  head  of  one  great 
party,  John  Russell  of  the  other,  and  yet  in 
about  ten  days’  time  they  all  gave  way  like 
straws  before  the  wind  ; and  so  here  am  I, 
writing  to  you  from  Downing  Street,  as  First 
Lord  of  the  Treasury.” 

No  doubt  Lord  Palmerston  was  sincere  in 
the  expression  of  surprise  which  we  have 
quoted  ; but  there  were  not  many  other  men 
in  the  country  who  felt  in  the  least  astonished 
at  the  turn  of  events  by  which  he  had  become 
Prime  Minister.  Indeed,  it  had  long  become 
apparent  to  almost  every  one  that  his  assum- 
ing that  place  was  only  a question  of  time. 
The  country  was  in  that  mood  that  it  would 
absolutely  have  somebody  at  the  head  of 
affairs  who  knew  his  own  mind  and  saw  his 
way  clearly  before  him.  When  the  Coalition 
Ministry  broke  down,  Lord  Derby  was  in- 
vited by  the  Queen  to  form  a Government. 
He  tried  and  failed.  He  did  all  in  his  power 
to  accomplish  the  task  with  which  the  Queen 
had  entrusted  him.  He  invited  Lord  Pal- 
merston to  join  him,  and  it  was  intimated 
that  if  Palmerston  consented  Mr.  Disraeli 
would  waive  all  claim  to  the  leadership  of 
the  House  of  Commons,  in  order  that  Pal- 
merston should  have  that  place.  Lord  Derby 
also  offered,  through  Lord  Palmerston,  places 
in  his  Administration  to  Mr.  Gladstone  and 
Mr.  Sidney  Herbert.  Palmerston  did  not 


102 


A HISTORY  OP  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


see  his  way  to  join  a Derby  Administration, 
and  without  him  Lord  Derby  could  not  go 
on.  The  Queen  then  sent  for  Lord  John 
Russell  ; but  Russell’s  late  and  precipitate 
retreat  from  his  office  had  discredited  him 
with  most  of  his  former  colleagues  ; and  he 
found  that  he  could  not  get  a Government 
together.  Lord  Palmerston  was  then,  to  use 
his  own  phrase,  1’ inevitable.  There  was  not 
much  change  in  the  'personnel  of  the  Ministry. 
Lord  Aberdeen  was  gone,  and  Lord  Palmer- 
ston took  his  place  ; and  Lord  Panmure,  who 
had  formerly  as  Fox  Maule  administered  the 
affairs  of  the  army,  succeeded  the  Duke  of 
Newcastle.  Lord  Panmure,  however,  com- 
bined in  his  own  person  the  functions,  up  to 
that  time  absurdly  separated,  of  Secretary-at- 
War  and  Secretary-for-W  ar.  The  Secretary  - 
at-War  under  the  old  system  was  not  one  of 
the  principal  Secretaries  of  State.  He  was 
merely  the  officer  by  whom  the  regular  com- 
munication was  kept  up  between  the  War 
Office  and  the  Ministry,  and  has  been  described 
as  the  civil  officer  of  the  army.  The  Secretary  - 
for-War  was  commonly  entrusted  with  the 
colonial  department  as  well.  The  two  War 
Offices  were  now  made  into  one.  It  was 
hoped  that  by  this  change  great  benefit  would 
come  to  our  whole  army  system.  Lord  Pal- 
merston acted  energetically  too  in  sending  out 
a sanitary  commission  to  the  Crimea,  and  a 
commission  to  superintend  the  commissariat, 
a department  that,  almost  more  than  any 
other,  had  broken  down.  Nothing  could  be 
more  strenuous  than  the  terms  in  which  Lord 
Palmerston  recommended  the  sanitary  com- 
mission to  Lord  Raglan.  He  requested  that 
Lord  Raglan  would  give  the  commissioners 
every  assistance  in  his  power.  ‘ ‘ They  will,  of 
course,  be  opposed  and  thwarted  by  the  med- 
ical officers,  by  the  men  who  have  charge  of 
the  port  arrangements,  and  by  those  who 
have  the  cleaning  of  the  camp.  Their  mission 
will  be  ridiculed,  and  their  recommendations 
and  directions  set  aside,  unless  enforced  by 
the  peremptory  exercise  of  your  authority. 
Rut  that  authority  I must  request  you  to  ex- 
ert in  the  most  peremptory  manner  for  the 
immediate  and  exact  carrying  into  execution 
whatever  changes  of  arrangement  they  may 
recommend  ; for  these  are  matters  on  which 
depend  the  health  and  lives  of  many  hun- 
dreds of  men,  I may  indeed  say  of  thou- 
sands.” Lord  Palmerston  was  strongly 
pressed  by  some  of  the  more  strenuous  Re- 
formers of  the  House.  Mr.  Layard,  who 
had  acquired  some  celebrity  before  in  a very 
different  field,  as  a discoverer,  that  is  to  say, 
in  the  ruins  of  Nineveh  and  Babylon,  was 
energetic  and  incessant  in  his  attacks  on  the 
administration  of  the  war,  and  was  not  dis- 
posed even  now  to  give  the  new  Government 
a moment’s  rest.  Mr.  Layard  was  a man  of 
a certain  rough  ability,  immense  self-suffi- 
ciency, and  indomitable  egotism.  He  was 
not  in  any  sense  an  eloquent  speaker  ; he 
was  singularly  wanting  in  all  the  graces  of 
style  and  manner  But  he  was  fluent,  he  was 
vociferous,  he  never  seemed  to  have  a mo- 
ment’s doubt  on  any  conceivable  question, 
he  never  admitted  that  there  could  by  any 
possibility  be  two  sides  to  any  matter  of  dis- 
cussion. He  did  really  know  a great  deal 
about  the  East  at  a time  when  the  habit  of 
travelling  in  the  East  was  comparatively 
rare.  He  stamped  down  all  doubt  or  dif- 
ference of  view  with  the  overbearing  dogma- 
tism of  Sir  Walter  Scott’s  Touchwood,  or  of 
the  proverbial  man  who  has  been  there  and 
ought  to  know  ; and  he  was  in  many  respects 
admirably  fitted  to  be  the  spokesman  of  all 
those,  and  they  were  not  a few,  who  saw 
that  things  had  been  going  wrong  without 
exactly  seeing  why,  and  were  eager  that 
something  should  be  done,  although  they  did 
not  clearly  know  what.  Lord  Palmerston 
strove  to  induce  the  House  not  to  press  for 
the  appointment  of  the  committee  recom- 
mended in  Mr.  Roebuck's  motion.  The 
Government,  he  said,  would  make  the  need- 
ful inquiries  themselves.  He  reminded  the 


House  of  Richard  II.  ’s  offer  to  lead  the  men 
of  the  fallen  Tyler’s  insurrection  himself  ; 
and  in  the  same  spirit  he  offered  on  the  part 
of  the  Government  to  take  the  lead  in  every 
necessary  investigation.  Mr.  Roebuck,  how- 
ever, would  not  give  way,  and  Lord  Palmer- 
ston yielded  to  a demand  which  had  un- 
doubtedly the  support  of  a vast  force  of  pub- 
lic opinion.  The  constant  argument  of  Mr. 
Layard  had  some  sense  in  it : the  Govern- 
ment now  in  office  was  very  much  like  the 
Government  in  which  the  House  had  declared 
so  lately  that  it  had  no  confidence.  It  could 
hardly,  therefore,  be  expected  that  the  House 
should  accept  its  existence  as  guarantee 
enough  that  everything  should  be  done  which 
its  predecessor  had  failed  to  do.  Lord  Pal- 
merston gave  way,  but  his  unavoidable  con- 
cession brought  on  a new  ministerial  crisis. 
Sir  James  Graham,  Mr.  Gladstone,  and  Mr. 
Sidney  Herbert  declined  to  hold  office  any 
longer.  They  had  opposed  the  motion  for 
an  inquiry  most  gravely  and  strenuously, 
and  they  would  not  lend  any  countenance  to 
it  by  remaining  in  office.  Sir  Charles  Wood 
succeeded  Sir  James  Graham  as  First  Lord 
of  the  Admiralty  ; Lord  John  Russell  took 
the  place  of  Secretary  of  the  Colonies,  va- 
cated by  Sidney  Herbert ; and  Sir  George 
Cornewall  Lewis  followed  Mr.  Glad., tone  as 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer. 

Meanwhile  new  negotiations  for  peace,  set 
on  foot  under  the  influence  of  Austria,  had 
been  begun  at  Vienna,  and  Lord  John  Rus- 
sell had  been  sent  there  to  represent  the  inter- 
ests of  England.  The  Conference  opened 
at  Vienna  uniter  circumstances  that  might 
have  seemed  especially  favorable  to  peace. 
We  had  got  a new  ally,  a State  not  indeed 
commanding  any  great  military  strength,  but 
full  of  energy  and  ambition,  and  representing 
more  than  any  other  perhaps  the  tendencies 
of  liberalism  and  the  operation  of  the  com- 
paratively new  principle  of  the  rights  of  na- 
tionalities. This  was  the  little  kingdom  of 
Sardinia,  whose  government  was  then  under 
the  control  of  one  of  the  master-spirits  of 
modern  politics  ; a man  who  belonged  to  the 
class  of  the  Richelieus  and  the  Orange  Wil- 
liams, the  illustrious  Count  Cavour.  Sar- 
dinia, it  may  be  frankly  said,  did  not  come 
into  the  alliance  because  of  any  particular 
sympathies  that  she  had  with  one  side  or  the 
other  of  the  quarrel  between  Russia  and  the 
Western  Powers.  She  went  into  the  war  in 
order  that  she  might  have  a locus  standi  in  the 
councils  of  Europe  from  which  to  set  forth 
her  grievances  against  Austria.  In  the  mar- 
vellous history  of  the  uprise  of  the  kingdom 
of  Italy  there  is  a good  deal  over  which,  to 
use  the  words  of  Carlyle,  moralities  not  a 
few  must  shriek  aloud.  It  would  not  be  easy 
to  defend  on  high  moral  principles  the  policy 
which  struck  into  a war  without  any  partic- 
ular care  for  either  side  of  the  controversy, 
but  only  to  serve  an  ulterior  and  personal, 
that  is  to  say,  national  purpose.  But  regard- 
ing the  policy  merely  by  the  light  of  its  re- 
sults, it  must  be  owned  that  it  was  singularly 
successful  and  entirely  justified  the  expecta- 
tions of  Cavour.  The  Crimean  War  laid  the 
foundations  of  the  kingdom  of  Italy. 

That  was  one  fact  calculated  to  inspire 
hopes  of  a peace.  The  greater  the  number 
and  strength  of  the  allies,  the  greater  obvi- 
ously the  pressure  upon  Russia  and  the  prob- 
ability of  her  listening  to  reason.  But  there 
was  another  event  of  a very  different  nature, 
the  effect  of  which  seemed  at  first  likely  to 
be  all  in  favor  of  peace.  This  was  the  death 
of  the  man  whom  the  united  public  opinion 
of  Europe  regarded  as  the  author  of  the  war. 
On  March  2,  1855,  the  Emperor  Nicholas  of 
Russia  died  of  pulmonary  apoplexy,  after  an 
attack  of  influenza.  In  other  days  it  would 
have  been  said  he  had  died  of  a broken  heart. 
Perhaps  the  description  would  have  been 
more  strictly  true  than  the  terms  of  the  med- 
ical report.  It  was  doubtless  the  effect  of 
utter  disappointment,  of  the  wreck  and  ruin 
of  hopes  to  which  a life’s  ambition  had  been 


directed  and  a life’s  energy  dedicated,  which 
left  that  frame  of  adamant  open  to  the  sud- 
den dart  of  sickness.  One  of  the  most  re- 
markable illustrations  of  an  artist’s  genius 
devoted  to  a political  subject  was  the  cartoon 
which  appeared  in  Punch,  and  which  was 
called  “ General  Fevrier  turned  Traitor.” 
The  Emperor  Nicholas  had  boasted  that  Rus- 
sia had  two  generals  on  whom  she  could  al- 
ways rely.  General  Janvier  and  General 
Fevrier  ; and  now  the  English  artist  repre- 
sented General  February,  a skeleton  in  Rus- 
sian uniform,  turning  traitor  and  laying  his 
bony  ice-cold  hand  on  the  heart  of  the  Sover- 
eign and  betraying  him  to  the  tomb.  But 
indeed  it  was  not  General  February  alone  who 
doomed  Nicholas  to  death.  The  Czar  died 
of  broken  hopes  ; of  the  recklessness  that 
comes  from  defeat  and  despair.  He  took  no 
precautions  against  cold  and  exposure  ; he 
treated  with  a magnanimous  disdain  the  re- 
monstrances of  his  physicians  and  his  friends. 
As  of  Max  Piccolomini  in  Schiller’s  noble 
play,  so  of  him  : men  whispered  that  he 
wished  to  die.  The  Alma  was  to  him  what 
Austerlitz  was  to  Pitt.  From  the  moment 
when  the  news  of  that  defeat  was  announced 
to  him  he  no  longer  seemed  to  have  hope  of 
the  campaign.  He  took  the  story  of  the  de- 
feat very  much  as  Lord  North  took  the  sur- 
render of  Cornwallis — as  if  a bullet  had 
struck  him.  Thenceforth  he  was  like  one 
whom  the  old  Scotch  phrase  would  describe 
as  fey  ; one  who  moved,  spoke,  and  lived  un- 
der the  shadow  of  coming  death  until  the 
death  came. 

The  news  of  the  sudden  death  of  the  Em- 
peror created  a profound  sensation  in  Eng- 
land. Mr.  Bright,  at  Manchester,  shortly 
after  rebuked  what  he  considered  an  ignoble 
levity  in  the  manner  of  commenting  on  the 
event  among  some  of  the  English  journals, 
but  it  is  right  to  say  that  on  the  whole  noth- 
ing could  have  been  more  decorous  and  dig- 
nified than  the  manner  in  which  the  English 
public  generally  received  the  news  that  the 
country’s  great  enemy  was  no  more.  At 
first  there  was,  as  we  have  said,  a common 
impression  that  Nicholas’s  son  and  succes- 
sor, Alexander  II.,  would  be  more  anxious 
to  make  peace  than  his  father  had  been.  But 
this  hope  was  soon  gone.  The  new  Czar 
could  not  venture  to  show  himself  to  his 
people  in  a less  patriotic  light  than  his  prede- 
cessor. The  prospects  of  the  allies  were  at 
the  time  remarkably  gloomy.  There  must 
have  seemed  to  the  new  Russian  Emperor 
considerable  ground  for  the  hope  that  dis- 
ease, and  cold,  and  bad  management  would 
do  more  harm  to  the  army  of  England  at 
least  than  any  Russian  general  could  do. 
The  Conference  at  Vienna  proved  a failure, 
and  even  in  some  respects  a fiasco.  Lord 
John  Russell,  sent  to  Vienna  as  our  represent- 
ative, was  instructed  that  the  object  he  must 
hold  in  view  was  the  admission  of  Turkey 
into  the  great  family  of  European  States. 
For  this  end  there  were  four  principal  points 
to  be  considered  : the  condition  of  the  Danu- 
bian  Principalities,  the  free  navigation  of  the 
Danube,  the  limitation  of  Russian  supremacy 
in  the  Black  Sea,  and  the  independence  of 
the  Porte.  It  was  on  the  attempt  to  limit 
Russian  supremacy  in  the  Black  Sea  that  the 
negotiations  became  a failure.  Russia  would 
not  consent  to  any  proposal  which  could 
really  have  the  desired  effect.  She  would 
agree  to  an  arrangement  between  Turkey  and 
herself,  but  this  was  exactly  what  the  W esl- 
ern  Powers  were  determined  not  to  allow. 
She  declined  to  have  the  strength  of  her  navy 
restricted  ; and  proposed  as  a counter-resolu- 
tion that  the  Straits  should  be  opened  to  the 
war  flags  of  all  nations,  so  that  if  Russia 
were  strong  as  a naval  Power  in  the  Black 
Sea,  other  Powers  might  be  just  as  strong  if 
they  thought  fit.  Lord  Palmerston,  in  a let- 
ter to  Lord  John  Russell,  dryly  characterized 
this  proposition,  involving  as  it  would  the 
maintenance  by  England  and  France  of  per- 
manent fleets  in  the  Black  Sea  to  counter- 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


103 


balance  the  fleet  of  Russia,  as  a “ mauvaise 
plaisanterie."  Lord  Palmerston  indeed  be- 
lieved no  more  in  the  sincerity  of  Austria 
throughout  all  these  transactions  than  he  did 
in  that  of  Russia.  The  Conference  proved 
a total  failure,  and  in  its  failure  it  involved  a 

food  deal  of  the  reputation  of  Lord  John 
lussell.  Like  the  French  representative, 
M.  Drouyn  de  Lhuys,  Lord  John  Russell  had 
been  taken  by  the  proposals  of  Austria  and 
had  supported  them  in  the  first  instance  ; 
but  when  the  Government  at  home  would 
not  have  them  he  was  still  induced  to  remain 
a member  of  the  Cabinet  and  even  to  con- 
demn in  the  House  of  Commons  the  recom- 
mendations he  had  supported  at  Vienna.  He 
was  charged  by  Mr.  Disraeli  with  having  en- 
couraged the  Russian  pretensions  by  declar- 
ing at  a critical  point  of  the  negotiations  that 
he  was  disposed  to  favor  whatever  arrange- 
ment would  best  preserve  the  honor  of  Rus- 
sia. “ What  has  the  representative  of  Eng- 
land,” Mr.  Disraeli  indignantly  asked,  “to 
do  with  the  honor  of  Russia?”  Lord  John 
had  indeed  a fair  reply.  He  could  say  with 
justice  and  good  sense  that  no  settlement 
was  likely  to  be  lasting  which  simply  forced 
conditions  upon  a great  Power  like  Russia 
without  taking  any  account  of  what  is  con- 
sidered among  nations  to  be  her  honor.  But 
he  was  not  able  to  give  any  satisfactory  ex- 
lanation  of  his  having  approved  the  con- 
itions  in  Vienna  which  he  afterwards  con- 
demned in  Westminster.  He  explained  in 
Parliament  that  he  did  in  the  first  instance 
regard  the  Austrian  propositions  as  contain- 
ing the  possible  basis  of  a satisfactory  and 
lasting  peace  ; but  that  as  the  Government 
would  not  hear  of  them  he  had  rejected  them 
against  his  own  judgment ; and  that  he  had 
afterwards  been  converted  to  the  opinion  of 
his  colleagues  and  believed  them  inadmissible 
in  principle.  This  was  a sort  of  explanation 
more  likely  to  alarm  than  to  reassure  the 
public.  What  manner  of  danger,  it  was 
asked  on  all  sides,  may  we  not  be  placed  in 
when  our  representatives  do  not  know  their 
own  minds  as  to  proper  terms  of  peace  ; 
when  they  have  no  opinion  of  their  own  up- 
on the  subject,  but  are  loud  in  approval  of 
certain  conditions  one  day  which  they  are 
equally  loud  in  condemning  the  next  ? There 
was  a general  impression  throughout  Eng- 
land that  some  of  our  statesmen  in  office  had 
never  been  sincerely  in  favor  of  the  war  from 
the  first  ; that  even  still  they  were  cold, 
doubtful,  and  half-hearted  about  it,  and  that 
the  honor  of  the  country  was  not  safe  in 
such  hands.  The  popular  instinct,  whether 
it  was  right  as  to  facts  or  not,  was  perfectly 
sound  as  to  inferences.  We  may  honor,  in 
many  instances  we  must  honor,  the  consci- 
entious scruples  of  a public  man  who  dis- 
trusts the  objects  and  has  no  faith  in  the  re- 
sults of  some  war  in  which  his  people  are  en- 
gaged. But  such  a man  has  no  business  in 
the  Government  which  has  the  conduct  of 
the  war.  The  men  who  are  to  carry  on  a 
war  must  have  no  doubt  of  its  rightfulness 
of  purpose,  and  must  not  be  eager  to  con- 
clude it  on  any  terms.  In  the  very  interests 
of  peace  itself  they  must  be  resolute  to  carry 
on  the  war  until  it  has  reached  the  end  they 
sought  for. 

Lord  John  Russell’s  remaining  in  office 
after  these  disclosures  was  practically  im- 
possible. Sir  E.  B.  Lytton  gave  notice  of  a 
direct  vote  of  censure  on  “ the  Minister 
charged  with  the  negotiations  at  Vienna.” 
But  Russell  anticipated  the  certain  effect  of  a 
vote  in  the  House  of  Commons  by  resigning 
his  office.  This  step  at  least  extricated  his 
colleagues  from  any  share  in  the  censure, 
although  the  recriminations  that  passed  on 
the  occasion  in  Parliament  were  many  and 
bitter.  The  vote  of  censure  was  however 
withdrawn.  Sir  William  Molesworth,  one 
of  the  most  distinguished  of  the  school  who 
were  since  called  Philosophical  Radicals,  suc- 
ceeded him  as  Colonial  Secretary  ; and  the 
Ministry  carried  one  or  two  triumphant  votes 


against  Mr.  Disraeli,  Mr.  Roebuck,  and  other 
opponents,  or  at  least  unfriendly  critics. 
Meanwhile  the  Emperor  of  the  French  and 
his  wife  had  paid  a visit  to  London  and  had 
been  received  with  considerable  enthusiasm. 
The  Queen  seems  to  have  been  very  favorably 
impressed  by  the  Emperor.  She  sincerely 
admired  him,  and  believed  in  his  desire  to 
maintain  peace  as  far  as  possible,  and  to  do 
his  best  for  the  promotion  of  liberal  principles 
and  sound  economic  doctrines  throughout  Eu- 
rope. The  beauty  and  grace  of  the  Empress 
likewise  greatly  won  over  Queen  Victoria. 
The  Prince  Consort  seems  to  have  been  less 
impressed.  He  was  indeed  a believer  in  the 
sincerity  and  good  disposition  of  the  Empe- 
ror, but  he  found  him  strangely  ignorant  on 
most  subjects,  even  the  modern  political  his- 
tory of  England  and  France.  During  the 
visit  of  the  Royal  family  of  England  to 
France,  and  now  while  the  Emperor  and 
Empress  were  in  London,  the  same  impres- 
sion appears  to  have  been  left  on  the  mind  of 
the  Prince  Consort.  He  also  seems  to  have 
noticed  a certain  barrack-room  flavor  about 
the  Emperor’s  entourage  which  was  not  agree- 
able to  his  own  ideas  of  dignity  and  refine- 
ment. The  Prince  Consort  appears  to  have 
judged  the  Emperor  almost  exactly  as  we 
know  now  that  Prince  Bismarck  did  then, 
and  as  impartial  opinion  has  judged  him 
everywhere  in  Europe  since  that  time. 

The  operations  in  the  Crimea  were  renewed 
with  some  vigor.  The  English  army  lost 
much  by  the  death  of  its  brave  and  manly 
commander-in-chief,  Lord  Raglan.  He  was 
succeeded  by  General  Simpson,  who  had  re- 
cently been  sent  out  to  the  Crimea  as  chief 
of  the  staff,  and  whose  administration  dur- 
ing the  short  time  that  he  held  the  command 
was  at  least  well  qualified  to  keep  Lord  Rag- 
lan’s memory  green  and  to  prevent  the  re- 
gret for  his  death  from  losing  any  of  its  keen- 
ness. The  French  army  had  lost  its  first 
commander  long  before — the  versatile,  reck- 
less, brilliant  soldier  of  fortune,  St.  Arnaud, 
whose  broken  health  had  from  the  opening 
of  the  campaign  prevented  him  from  display- 
ing any  of  the  qualities  which  his  earlier 
career  gave  men  reason  to  look  for  under  his 
command.  After  St.  Arnaud’s  death  the 
command  was  transferred  for  a while  to  Gen- 
eral Canrobert,  who,  finding  himself  hardly 
equal  to  the  task,  resigned  it  in  favor  of  Gen- 
eral Pelissier.  The  Sardinian  contingent  had 
arrived  and  had  given  admirable  proof  of  its 
courage  and  discipline.  On  August  16,  1855, 
the  Russians,  under  General  Liprandi,  made 
a desperate  effort  to  raise  the  siege  of  Sebas- 
topol by  an  attack  on  the  allied  forces.  The 
attack  was  skilfully  planned  during  the 
night,  and  was  made  in  great  strength.  The 
French  divisions  had  to  bear  the  principal 
weight  of  the  attack  ; but  the  Sardinian 
contingent  also  had  a prominent  place  in  the 
resistance,  and  bore  themselves  with  splendid 
bravery  and  success.  The  attempt  of  the 
Russians  was  completely  foiled  ; and  all 
Northern  Italy  was  thrown  into  wild  delight 
by  the  news  that  the  flag  of  Piedmont  had 
been  carried  to  victory  over  the  troops  of  one 
great  European  Power,  and  side  by  side  with 
those  of  two  others.  The  unanimous  voice  of 
the  country  now  approved  and  acclaimed  the 
policy  of  Cavour,  which  had  been  sanctioned 
only  by  a very  narrow  majority,  had  been 
denounced  from  all  sides  as  reckless  and 
senseless,  and  had  been  carried  out  in  the 
face  of  the  most  tremendous  difficulties.  It 
was  the  first  great  illustration  of  Cavour’s 
habitual  policy  of  blended  audacity  and  cool 
far-seeing  judgment.  It  is  a curious  fact 
that  the  suggestion  to  send  Sardinian  troops 
to  the  Crimea  did  not  originate  in  Cavour’s 
own  busy  brain.  The  first  thought  of  it 
came  up  in  the  mind  of  a woman,  Cavour’s 
niece.  The  great  statesman  was  struck  with 
the  idea  from  the  moment  when  she  sug- 
gested it.  He  thought  over  it  deeply,  re- 
solved to  adopt  it,  and  carried  it  to  triumph- 
ant success. 


The  repulse  of  the  Tchernaya  was  a heavy, 
indeed  a fatal  stroke  for  the  Russians.  The 
siege  had  been  progressing  for  some  time 
with  considerable  activity.  The  French  had 
drawn  their  lines  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  be- 
sieged city.  The  Russians,  however,  had 
also  been  throwing  up  fresh  works,  which 
brought  them  nearer  to  the  lines  of  the  al- 
lies, and  sometimes  made  the  latter  seem  as 
if  they  were  the  besieged  rather  than  the  be- 
siegers. The  Malakoff  tower  and  the  Mame- 
lon  battery  in  front  of  it  became  the  scenes 
and  the  objects  of  constant  struggle.  The 
Russians  made  desperate  night  sorties  again 
and  again,  and  were  always  repulsed.  On 
June  7 the  English  assaulted  the  quarries  in 
front  of  the  Redan,  and  the  French  attacked 
the  Mamelon.  The  attack  on  both  sides  was 
successful ; but  it  was  followed  on  the  18th 
of  the  same  month  by  a desperate  and  wholly 
unsuccessful  attack  on  the  Redan  and  Mala- 
koff batteries.  There  was  some  misappre- 
hension on  the  side  of  the  French  command- 
er, which  led  to  a lack  of  precision  and  uni- 
ty in  the  carrying  out  of  the  enterprise,  and 
it  became,  therefore,  a failure  on  the  part  of 
both  the  allies.  A pompous  and  exulting  ad- 
dress was  issued  by  Prince  Gortschakoff,  in 
which  he  informed  the  Russian  army  that  the 
enemy  had  been  beaten,  driven  back  with 
enormous  loss  ; and  announced  that  the  hour 
was  approaching  “ when  the  pride  of  the  en- 
emy will  be  lowered,  their  armies  swept  from 
our  soil  like  chaff  blowrn  away  by  the 
wind.” 

On  September  5 the  allies  made  an  attack 
almost  simultaneously  upon  the  Malakoff  and 
the  Redan.  It  was  agreed  that  as  soon  as  the 
French  had  got  possession  of  the  Malakoff 
the  English  should  attack  the  Redan,  the 
hoisting  of  the  French  flag  on  the  former 
fort  to  be  the  signal  for  our  men  to  move. 
The  French  were  brilliantly  successful  in 
their  part  of  the  attack,  and  in  a quarter  of 
an  hour  from  the  beginning  of  the  attempt 
the  flag  of  the  Empire  was  floating  on  the 
parapets.  The  English  then  at  once  advanc- 
ed upon  the  Redan  ; but  it  was  a very  differ- 
ent task  from  that  which  the  French  had  had 
to  undertake.  The  French  were  near  the 
Malakoff  ; the  English  were  very  far  away 
from  the  Redan.  The  distance  our  soldiers 
had  to  traverse  left  them  almost  helplessly 
exposed  to  the  Russian  Are.  They  stormed 
the  parapets  of  the  Redan  despite  all  the  dif- 
ficulties of  their  attack ; but  they  were  not 
able  to  hold  the  place.  The  attacking  party 
were  far  too  small  in  numbers ; reinforce- 
ments did  not  come  in  time  ; the  English 
held  their  own  for  an  hour  against  odds  that 
might  have  seemed  overwhelming ; but  it 
was  simply  impossible  for  them  to  establish 
themselves  in  the  Redan,  and  the  remnant  of 
them  that  could  withdraw  had  to  retreat  to 
the  trenches.  It  was  only  the  old  story  of  the 
war.  Superb  courage  and  skill  of  officers 
and  men ; outrageously  bad  generalship. 
The  attack  might  have  been  renewed  that 
day,  but  the  English  commander-in-chief, 
General  Simpson,  declared  with  naivete  that 
the  trenches  were  too  crowded  for  him  to  do 
anything.  Thus  the  attack  failed  because 
there  were  too  few  men,  and  could  not  be  re- 
newed because  there  wrere  too  many.  The 
cautious  commander  resolved  to  make  an- 
other attempt  the  next  morning.  But  before 
the  morrow  came  there  was  nothing  to  at- 
tack. The  Russians  withdrew  during  the 
night  from  the  south  side  of  Sebastopol.  A 
brTdge  of  boats  had  been  constructed  across 
the  bay  to  connect  the  north  and  the  south 
sides  of  the  city,  and  across  this  bridge 
Prince  Gortschakoff  quietly  withdrew  his 
troops.  The  bombardment  kept  up  by  the 
allies  had  been  so  terrible  and  so  close  for 
several  days,  and  their  long-range  guns  were 
so  entirely  superior  to  anything  possessed  by 
or  indeed  known  to  the  Russians,  that  the 
defences  of  the  south  side  were  being  irrepar- 
ably destroyed.  The  Russian  general  felt 
that  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  hold 


104 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


the  city  much  longer,  and  that  to  remain 
there  was  only  useless  waste  of  life.  But,  as 
he  said  in  his  own  despatch,  “it  is  not  Se- 
bastopol which  we  have  left  to  them,  but  the 
burning  ruins  of  the  town,  which  we  our- 
selves set  fire  to,  having  maintained  the 
honor  of  the  defence  in  such  a manner  that 
our  great-grandchildren  may  recall  with  pride 
the  remembrance  of  it  and  send  it  on  to  all 
posterity.”  It  was  some  time  before  the  al- 
lies could  venture  to  enter  the  abandoned 
city.  The  arsenals  and  powder-magazines 
were  exploding,  the  flames  were  bursting  out 
of  every  public  building  and  every  private 
house.  The  Russians  had  made  of  Sebasto- 
pol another  Moscow. 

With  the  close  of  that  long  siege,  which 
had  lasted  nearly  a year,  the  war  may  be  said 
to  have  ended.  The  brilliant  episode  of  Kars, 
its  splendid  defence  and  its  final  surrender, 
was  brought  to  its  conclusion,  indeed,  after 
the  fall  of  Sebastopol ; but,  although  it  nat- 
urally attracted  peculiar  attention  in  this 
country,  it  could  have  no  effect  on  the  actual 
fortunes  of  such  a war.  Kars  was  defended 
by  Colonel  Fenwick  Williams,  an  English 
officer,  who  had  been  sent,  all  too  late,  to  re- 
organize the  Turkish  forces  in  Armenia  after 
they  had  suffered  a terrible  defeat  at  the 
hands  of  the  Russians.  Never  probably  had 
a man  a more  difficult  task  than  that  which 
fell  to  the  lot  of  Williams.  He  had  to  con- 
tend against  official  stupidity,  corruption,  de- 
lay ; he  could  get  nothing  done  without  hav- 
ing first  to  remove  whole  mountains  of  ob- 
struction, and  to  quicken  into  life  and  move- 
ment an  apathy  which  seemed  like  that  of  a 
paralyzed  system.  He  concentrated  liis 
efforts  at  last  upon  the  defence  of  Kars,  and 
he  held  the  place  against  overwhelming  Rus- 
sian forces,  and  against  an  enemy  far  more 
appalling,  starvation  itself.  With  his  little 
garrison  he  repelled  a tremendous  attack 
of  the  Russian  army  under  General  Mou- 
ravieff,  in  a battle  that  lasted  nearly  seven 
hours,  and  as  the  result  of  which  the  Rus- 
sians left  on  the  field  more  than  five  thou- 
sand dead.  He  had  to  surrender  at  last  to 
famine  ; but  the  very  articles  of  surrender  to 
which  the  conqueror  consented  became  the 
trophy  of  Williams  and  his  men.  The  gar- 
rison were  allowed  to  leave  the  place  with  all 
the  honors  of  war  ; and,  “ as  a testimony  to 
the  valorous  resistance  made  by  the  garrison 
of  Kars,  the  officers  of  all  ranks  are  to  keep 
their  swords.”  Williams  and  his  English 
companions,  Colonel  Lake,  Major  Teesdale, 
Major  Thompson,  and  Dr.  Sandwich,  had 
done  as  much  for  the  honor  of  their  country 
at  the  close  of  the  war  as  Butler  and  Nas- 
myth had  done  at  its  opening.  The  curtain 
of  that  great  drama  rose  and  fell  upon  a 
splendid  scene  of  English  heroism. 

The  war  was  virtually  over.  Austria  had 
been  exerting  herself  throughout  its  progress 
in  the  interests  of  peace,  and  after  the  fall  of 
Sebastopol  she  made  a new  effort  with  greater 
success.  Two  of  the  belligerents  were  indeed 
now  anxious  to  be  out  of  the  struggle  almost 
on  any  terms.  These  were  France  and  Rus- 
sia. The  new  Emperor  of  Russia  was  not  a 
man  personally  inclined  for  war  ; nor  had  he 
his  father’s  overbearing  and  indomitable  tem- 
per. He  could  not  but  see  that  his  father 
had  greatly  overrated  the  military  strength 
and  resources  of  his  country.  He  had  ac- 
cepted the  war  only  as  a heritage  of  necessary 
evil,  with  little  hope  of  any  good  to  come  of 
it  to  Russia  ; and  he  welcomed  any  chance  of 
ending  it  on  fair  terms.  France,  or  at  least 
her  Emperor,  was  all  but  determined  to  get 
back  again  into  peace.  If  England  had  held 
out,  it  is  highly  probable  that  she  would  have 
had  to  do  so  alone.  For  this  indeed  Lord 
Palmerston  was  fully  prepared  as  a last  re- 
source, sooner  than  submit  to  terms  which 
he  considered  unsatisfactory.  He  said  so  and 
he  meant  it.  “I  can  fancy,”  Lord  Palmer- 
ston wrote  to  Lord  Clarendon  in  his  bright 
good-humored  way,  ‘ ‘ how  I should  be  hoot- 
ed in  the  House  of  Commons  if  I were  to  get 


up  and  say  that  we  had  agreed  to  an  imper- 
fect and  unsatisfactory  arrangement.  . . . 

I had  better  beforehand  take  the  Chiltern 
Hundreds.”  Lord  Palmerston  however  had 
no  occasion  to  take  the  Chiltern  Hundreds  ; 
the  Congress  of  Paris  opened  on  February 
26,  1856,  and  on  March  30  the  treaty  of  peace 
was  signed  by  the  plenipotentiaries  of  the 
Great  Powers.  Prussia  had  been  admitted 
to  the  Congress,  which  therefore  represented 
England  France,  Austria,  Prussia,  Turkey, 
and  Sardinia. 

The  treaty  began  by  declaring  that  Kars 
was  to  be  restored  to  the  Sultan,  and  that  Se- 
bastopol and  all  other  places  taken  by  the  al- 
lies were  to  be  given  back  to  Russia.  The 
Sublime  Porte  was  admitted  to  participate  in 
all  the  advantages  of  the  public  law  and  sys- 
tem of  Europe.  The  other  Powers  engaged 
to  respect  the  independence  and  territorial  in- 
tegrity of  Turkey.  They  guaranteed  in  com- 
mon the  strict  observance  of  that  engage- 
ment, and  announced  that  they  would  in  con- 
sequence consider  any  act  tending  to  a viola- 
tion of  it  as  a question  of  general  interest. 
The  Sultan  issued  a firman  for  ameliorating 
the  condition  of  his  Christian  subjects,  and 
communicated  to  the  other  Powers  the  pur- 
poses of  the  firman  “ emanating  spontane- 
ously from  his  sovereign  will.”  No  right  of 
interference,  it  was  distinctly  specified,  was 
given  to  the  other  Powers  by  this  concession 
on  the  Sultan’s  part.  The  article  of  the 
treaty  which  referred  to  the  Black  Sea  is  of 
especial  importance.  “ The  Black  Sea  is 
neutralized  ; its  waters  and  its  ports,  thrown 
open  to  the  mercantile  marine  of  every  na- 
tion, are  formally  and  in  perpetuity  interdic- 
ted to  the  flag  of  war  either  of  the  Powers 
possessing  its  coasts  or  of  any  other  Power, 
with  the  exceptions  mentioned  in  articles 
fourteen  and  nineteen.”  The  exceptions 
only  reserved  the  right  of  each  of  the  Powers 
to  have  the  same  number  of  small  armed  ves- 
sels in  the  Black  Sea  to  act  as  a sort  of  mara- 
time  police  and  to  protect  the  coasts.  The 
Sultan  and  the  Emperor  engaged  to  establish 
and  maintain  no  military  or  maritime  arsenals 
in  that  sea.  The  navigation  of  the  Danube 
was  thrown  open.  In  exchange  for  the 
towns  restored  to  him,  and  in  order  more 
fully  to  secure  the  navigation  of  the  Danube, 
the  Emperor  consented  to  a certain  rectifica- 
tion of  his  frontier  in  Bessarabia,  the  territory 
ceded  by  Russia  to  be  annexed  to  Moldavia  un- 
der the  suzerainty  of  the  Porte.  Moldavia  and 
Wallachia,  continuing  under  the  suzerainty 
of  the  Sultan,  were  to  enjoy  all  the  privileges 
and  immunities  they  already  possessed  under 
the  guarantee  of  the  contracting  Powers,  but 
with  no  separate  right  of  intervention  in 
their  affairs.  The  existing  position  of  Servia 
was  assured.  A convention  respecting  the 
Dardanelles  and  the  Bosphorus  was  made  by 
all  the  Powers.  By  this  convention  the  Sul- 
tan maintained  the  ancient  rule  prohibiting 
ships  of  war  of  foreign  Powers  from  entering 
the  Straits  so  long  as  the  Porte  is  at  peace. 
During  time  of  peace  the  Sultan  engaged  to 
admit  no  foreign  ships  of  war  into  the  Bos- 
phorus or  the  Dardanelles.  The  Sultan  re- 
served to  himself  the  right  as  in  former 
times  of  delivering  firmans  of  passage  for 
light  vessels  under  the  flag  of  war  employed 
in  the  service  of  foreign  Powers,  that  is  to 
say,  of  their  diplomatic  missions.  A sepa- 
rate convention  as  to  the  Black  Sea  between 
Russia  and  Turkey  agreed  that  the  contract- 
ing parties  should  have  in  that  sea  six  light 
steam  vessels  of  not  more  than  800  tons,  and 
four  steam  or  sailing  vessels  of  not  more  than 
200  tons  each. 

Thus  the  controversies  about  the  Christian 
provinces,  the  Straits,  and  the  Black  Sea 
were  believed  to  be  settled.  The  great  cen- 
tral business  of  the  Congress,  however,  was 
to  assure  the  independence  and  the  territorial 
integrity  of  Turkey,  now  admitted  to  a place 
in  the  family  of  European  States.  As  it  did 
not  seem  clear  to  those  most  particularly  con- 
cerned in  bringing  about  this  result  that  the 


arrangements  adopted  in  full  congress  had 
been  sufficient  to  guarantee  Turkey  from  the 
enemy  they  most  feared,  there  was  a tripar- 
tite treaty  afterwards  agreed  to  between  Eng- 
land, France,  and  Austria.  This  document 
bears  date  in  Paris,  April,  15,  1850  ; by  it  the 
contracting  parties  guaranteed  jointly  and 
severally  the  independence  and  integrity  of 
the  Ottoman  empire,  and  declared  that  any 
infraction  of  the  general  treaty  of  March  30 
would  be  considered  by  them  as  casus  belli. 
It  is  probable  that  not  one  of  the  three  con- 
tracting parties  was  quite  sincere  in  the  mak- 
ing of  this  treaty.  It  appears  to  have  been 
done,  at  the  instigation  of  Austria,  much  less 
for  the  sake  of  Turkey  than  in  order  that  she 
might  have  some  understanding  of  a special 
kind  with  some  of  the  Great  Powers,  and 
thus  avoid  the  semblance  of  isolation  which 
she  now  especially  dreaded,  having  Russia  to 
fear  on  the  one  side,  and  seeing  Italy  already 
raising  its  head  on  the  other.  England  did 
not  particularly  care  about  the  tripartite  trea- 
ty, which  was  pressed  upon  her,  and  which 
she  accepted  trusting  that  she  might  never 
have  to  act  upon  it  ; and  France  accepted  it 
without  any  liking  for  it,  probably  without 
the  least  intention  of  ever  acting  on  it. 

The  Congress  was  also  the  means  of  bring- 
ing about  a treaty  between  England  and 
France  and  Sweden.  By  this  engagement 
Sweden  undertook  not  to  cede  to  Russia  any 
part  of  her  present  territories  or  any  rights  of 
fishery  ; and  the  two  other  Powers  agreed  to 
maintain  Sweden  by  force  against  aggres- 
sion. 

The  Congress  of  Paris  was  remarkable  too 
for  the  fact  that  the  plenipotentiaries  before 
separating  came  to  an  agreement  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  right  of  search,  and  the  rules  gen- 
erally of  maritime  war.  They  agreed  to  the 
four  following  declarations  : ‘ ‘ First,  pri- 
vateering is  and  remains  abolished.  Second 
the  neutral  flag  covers  enemies’  goods,  with 
the  exception  of  contraband  of  war.  Third 
neutral  goods,  with  the  exception  of  contra- 
band of  war,  are  not  liable  to  capture  under 
an  enemy’s  flag.  Fourth,  blockades  in  or- 
der to  be  binding  must  be  effective  ; that  is 
to  say,  maintained  by  a force  sufficient  really 
to  prevent  access  to  the  enemy’s  coast.”  At 
the  opening  of  the  war  Great  Britain  had  al- 
ready virtually  given  up  the  claims  she  once 
made  against  neutrals,  and  which  were  in- 
deed untenable  in  the  face  of  modern  civili- 
zation. She  gladly  agreed  therefore  to  ratify, 
so  far  as  her  declaration  went,  the  doctrines 
which  would  abolish  for  ever  the  principle 
upon  which  those  and  kindred  claims  once 
rested.  It  was  agreed,  however,  that  the 
rules  adopted  at  the  Congress  of  Paris  should 
only  be  binding  on  those  States  that  had  ac- 
ceded or  should  accede  to  them.  The  Gov- 
ernment of  the  United  States  had  previously 
invited  the  great  European  Powers  by  a cir- 
cular to  assent  to  the  broad  doctrine  that  free 
ships  make  free  goods.  At  the  instance  of 
England  it  was  answered  that  the  adoption  of 
that  doctrine  must  be  conditional  on  Amer- 
ica’s renouncing  the  right  of  privateering. 
To  this  the  United  States  raised  some  diffi- 
culty, and  the  declarations  of  the  Congress 
were  therefore  made  without  America’s  as- 
senting to  them. 

With  many  other  questions,  too,  the  Con- 
gress of  Paris  occupied  itself.  At  the  insti- 
gation of  Count  Cavour  the  condition  of  Italy 
was  brought  under  its  notice  ; and  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  out  of  the  Congress  and  the 
part  that  Sardinia  assumed  as  representative 
of  Italian  nationality  came  the  great  succes- 
sion of  events  which  ended  in  the  establish- 
ment of  a King  of  Italy  in  the  palace  of  the 
Quirinal.  The  adjustment  of  the  condition 
of  the  Danubian  Principalities,  too,  engaged 
much  attention  and  discussion,  and  a highly 
ingenious  arrangement  was  devised  for  the 
purpose  of  keeping  those  provinces  from  ac- 
tual union,  so  that  they  might  be  coherent 
enough  to  act  as  a rampart  against  Russia, 
without  being  so  coherent  as  to  cause  Austria 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


105 


any  alarm  for  her  own  somewhat  disjointed, 
not  to  say  distracted,  political  system.  All 
these  artificial  and  complex  arrangements  pre- 
sently fell  to  pieces,  and  the  Principalities 
became  in  course  of  no  very  long  time  an  in- 
dependent State  under  a hereditary  prince. 
But  for  the  hour  it  was  hoped  that  the  inde- 
pendence of  Turkey  and  the  restriction  of 
Russia,  the  security  of  the  Christian  prov- 
inces, the  neutrality  of  the  Black  Sea,  and  the 
closing  of  the  Straits  against  war  vessels,  had 
been  bought  by  the  war. 

England  lost  some  twenty-four  thousand 
men  in  the  war  ; of  whom  hardly  a sixth  fell 
in  battle  or  died  of  wounds.  Cholera  and 
other  diseases  gave  grim  account  of  the  rest. 
Forty-one  millions  of  money  were  added  by 
the  campaign  to  the  National  Debt.  Not 
much,  it  will  be  seen,  was  there  in  the  way 
of  mere  military  glory  to  show  for  the  cost. 
Our  fleets  had  hardly  any  chance  of  making 
their  power  felt.  The  ships  of  the  allies 
took  Bomarsund  in  the  Baltic,  and  Kinburn 
in  the  Black  Sea,  and  bombarded  several 
places  ; but  the  war  was  not  one  that  gave  a 
chance  to  a Nelson,  even  if  a Nelson  had 
been  at  hand.  Among  the  accidental  and 
unpleasant  consequences  of  the  campaign  it 
is  worth  mentioning  the  quarrel  in  which 
England  became  involved  with  the  United 
States  because  of  our  Foreign  Enlistment 
Act.  At  the  close  of  December,  1854,  Par- 
liament hurriedly  passed  an  Act  authorizing 
the  formation  of  a Foreign  Legion  for  service 
in  the  war,  and  some  Swiss  and  Germans 
were  recruited  who  never  proved  of  the  slight- 
est service.  Prussia  and  America  both  com- 
plained that  the  zeal  of  our  recruiting  func- 
tionaries outran  the  limits  of  discretion  and 
of  law.  One  of  our  consuls  was  actually  put 
on  trial  at  Cologne  ; and  America  made  a 
serious  complaint  of  the  enlistment  of  her 
citizens.  England  apologized ; but  the 
United  States  were  out  of  temper,  and  insist- 
ed on  sending  our  minister,  Mr.  Crampton, 
away  from  Washington,  and  some  little  time 
passed  before  the  friendly  relations  of  the 
two  States  were  completely  restored. 

So  the  Crimean  War  ended.  It  was  one  of 
the  unlucky  accidents  of  the  hour  that  the 
curtain  fell  in  the  Crimea  upon  what  may  be 
considered  a check  to  the  arms  of  England. 
There  were  not  a few  in  this  country  who 
would  gladly  have  seen  the  peace  negotia- 
tions fail,  in  order  that  England  might  there- 
by have  an  opportunity  of  reasserting  her  mil- 
itary supremacy  in  the  eyes  of  Europe. 
Never  during  the  campaign,  nor  for  a long 
time  before  it,  had  England  been  in  so  excel- 
lent a condition  for  war  as  she  was  when  the 
warlike  operations  suddenly  came  to  an  end. 
The  campaign  had  indeed  only  been  a train- 
ing time  for  us  after  the  unnerving  relaxa- 
tion of  a long  peace.  We  had  learned  some 
severe  lessons  from  it ; and  not  unnaturally 
there  were  impatient  spirits  who  chafed  at 
the  idea  of  England’s  having  no  opportunity 
of  putting  these  lessons  to  account.  It  was 
but  a mere  chance  that  prevented  us  from 
accomplishing  the  capture  of  the  Redan,  de- 
spite the  very  serious  disadvantages  with 
which  we  were  hampered  in  our  enterprise, 
as  compared  with  our  allies  and  their  simul- 
taneous operation.  With  just  a little  better 
generalship  the  Redan  would  have  been 
taken  ; as  it  was,  even  with  the  generalship 
that  we  had,  the  next  attempt  would  not  have 
been  likely  to  fail.  But  the  Russians  aban- 
doned Sebastopol,  and  our  principal  ally  was 
even  more  anxious  for  peace  than  the  en- 
emy ; and  we  had  no  choice  but  to  accept 
the  situation.  The  war  had  never  been  pop- 
ular in  France.  It  had  never  had  even  that 
amount  of  popularity  which  the  French  peo- 
ple accorded  to  their  Empeior’s  later  enter- 
prise, the  campaign  against  Austria.  Louis 
Napoleon  had  had  all  he  wanted.  He  had 
been  received  into  the  society  of  European 
sovereigns,  and  he  had  made  what  the  French 
public  were  taught  to  consider  a brilliant 
campaign.  It  is  surprising  to  any  one  who 


looks  calmly  back  now  on  the  history  of  the 
Crimean  War  to  find  what  an  extravagant 
amount  of  credit  the  French  army  obtained 
by  its  share  in  the  operations.  Even  in  this 
country  it  was  at  the  time  an  almost  univer- 
sal opinion  that  the  French  succeeded  in 
everything  they  tried  ; that  their  system  was 
perfect  ; that  their  tactics  were  beyond  im- 
provement ; that  they  were  a contrast  to  us 
in  every  respect.  Much  of  this  absurd  de- 
lusion was  no  doubt  the  result  of  a condition 
of  things  among  us  which  no  reasonable  Eng- 
lishman would  exchange  for  all  the  imagin- 
ary triumphs  that  a court  historiographer 
ever  celebrated.  It  was  due  to  the  fact  that 
our  system  was  open  to  the  criticism  of  every 
pen  that  chose  to  assail  it.  Not  a spot  in  our 
military  organization  escaped  detection  and 
exposure.  Every  detail  was  keenly  criticis- 
ed ; every  weakness  was  laid  open  to  public 
observation.  We  invited  all  the  world  to  see 
where  we  were  failing,  and  what  were  the 
causes  of  our  failure.  Our  journals  did  the 
work  for  the  military  system  of  England  that 
Matthew  Arnold  says  Goethe  did  for  the  po- 
litical and  social  systems  of  Europe — struck 
its  finger  upon  the  weak  places,  “ and  said 
thou  ailest  here  and  here.  ’ ’ While  the  offi- 
cial and  officious  journals  of  the  French  em- 
pire were  sounding  pteans  to  the  honor  of  the 
Emperor  and  his  successes,  to  his  generals, 
his  officers,  his  commissariat,  his  transport 
service,  his  soldiers,  his  camp,  pioneers,  and 
all,  our  leading  papers  of  all  shades  of  poli- 
tics were  only  occupied  in  pointing  out  de- 
fects, and  blaming  those  who  did  not  instant- 
ly remedy  them.  Unpatriotic  conduct,  it 
may  be  said.  Ay,  truly,  if  the  conduct  of 
the  doctor  be  unfriendly  when  he  tells  that 
we  have  the  symptoms  of  failing  health,  and 
warns  us  to  take  some  measures  for  rest  and 
renovation.  Some  of  the  criticisms  of  the 
English  press  were  undoubtedly  inaccurate 
and  rash.  But  their  general  effect  was  brac- 
ing, healthful,  successful.  Their  immediate 
result  was  that  which  has  already  been  indi- 
cated, to  leave  the  English  army  at  the  close 
of  the  campaign  far  better  able  to  undertake 
prolonged  and  serious  operations  of  war  than 
it  had  been  at  any  time  during  the  cam- 
paign’s continuance.  For  the  effect  of  the 
French  system  on  the  French  army  we  should 
have  to  come  down  a little  later  in  history 
and  study  the  workings  of  Imperialism  as 
they  displayed  themselves  in  the  confidence, 
the  surprises,  and  the  collapse  of  1870. 

Still  there  was  a feeling  of  disappointment 
in  this  country  at  the  close  of  the  war.  This 
was  partly  due  to  dissatisfaction  with  the 
manner  in  which  we  had  carried  on  the  cam 
paign,  and  partly  to  distrust  of  its  political 
results.  Our  soldiers  had  done  splendidly  ; 
but  our  generals  and  our  system  had  done 
poorly  indeed.  Only  one  first-class  reputa- 
tion of  a military  order  had  come  out  of  the 
war,  and  that  was  by  the  common  consent  of 
the  world  awarded  to  a Russian — to  General 
Todleben,  the  defender  of  Sebastopol.  No 
new  name  was  made  on  our  side  or  on  that 
of  the  French  ; and  some  promising  or  tra- 
ditional reputations  were  shattered.  The  po- 
litical results  of  the  war  were  to  many  minds 
equally  unsatisfying.  We  had  gone  into  the 
enterprise  for  two  things — to  restrain  the  ag- 
gressive and  aggrandizing  spirit  of  Russia, 
and  to  secure  the  integrity  and  independence 
of  Turkey  as  a Power  capable  of  upholding 
herself  with  credit  among  the  States  of  Eu- 
rope. Events  which  happened  more  than 
twenty  years  later  will  have  to  be  studied  be- 
fore any  one  can  form  a satisfactory  opinion 
as  to  the  degree  of  success  which  attended 
each  of  these  objects.  For  the  present  it  is 
enough  to  say  that  there  was  not  among 
thoughtful  minds  at  the  time  a very  strong- 
conviction  of  success  either  way.  Lord 
Aberdeen  had  been  modest  in  his  estimate  of 
what  the  war  would  do.  He  had  never  had 
any  heart  in  it,  and  he  was  not  disposed  to 
exaggerate  its  beneficent  possibilities.  He 
estimated  that  it  might  perhaps  secure  peace 


in  the  East  of  Europe  for  some  twenty-five 
years.  His  modest  expectation  was  prophetic. 
Indeed,  it  a little  overshot  the  mark.  Twenty- 
two  years  after  the  close  of  the  Crimean 
campaign  Russia  and  Turkey  were  at  -war 
again. 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  REIGN.  FIRST 
SURVEY. 

The  close  of  the  Crimean  War  is  a great 
landmark  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Victoria. 
This,  therefore,  is  a convenient  opportunity 
to  cast  a glance  back  upon  the  literary 
achievements  of  a period  so  markedly  divided 
in  political  interest  from  any  that  went  be- 
fore it.  The  reign  of  Queen  Victoria  is  the 
first  in  which  the  constitutional  and  Parlia- 
mentary system  of  government  came  fairly 
and  completely  into  recognition.  It  is  also 
the  reign  which  had  the  good  fortune  to  wit- 
ness the  great  modern  development  in  all  that 
relates  to  practical  invention,  and  more  es- 
pecially in  the  application  of  science  to  the 
work  of  making  communication  rapid  be- 
tween men.  On  land  and  ocean,  in  air  and 
under  the  sea,  the  history  of  rapid  travel  and 
rapid  interchange  of  message  coincides  with 
that  of  the  present  reign.  Such  a reign 
ought  to  have  a distinctive  literature.  So  in 
truth  it  has.  Of  course  it  is  somewhat  bold 
to  predict  long  and  distinct  renown  for  con- 
temporaries or  contemporary  schools.  But 
it  may  perhaps  be  assumed  without  any  undue 
amount  of  speculative  venturesomeness  that 
the  age  of  Queen  Victoria  will  stand  out  in 
history  as  the  period  of  a literature  as  dis- 
tinct from  others  as  the  age  of  Elizabeth  or 
Anne,  although  not  perhaps  equal  in  great- 
ness to  the  latter,  and  far  indeed  below  the 
former.  At  the  opening  of  Queen  Victoria’s 
reign  a great  race  of  literary  men  had  come 
to  a close.  It  is  curious  to  note  how  sharply 
and  completely  the  literature  of  Victoria  sep- 
arates itself  from  that  of  the  era  whose  heroes 
were  Scott,  Byron,  and  Wordsworth.  Be- 
fore Queen  Victoria  came  to  the  throne, 
Scott,  Byron,  Coleridge,  and  Keats  were 
dead.  Wordsworth  lived,  indeed,  for  many 
years  after  ; so  did  Southey  and  Moore  ; and 
Savage  Landor  died  much  later  still.  But 
Wordsworth,  Southey,  Moore,  and  Landor 
had  completed  their  literary  work  before  Vic- 
toria came  to  the  throne.  Not  one  of  them 
added  a cubit  or  an  inch  to  his  intellectual 
stature  from  that  time  ; some  of  them  even 
did  work  which  distinctly  proved  that  their 
day  was  done.  A new  and  fresh  breath  was 
soon  after  breathed  into  literature.  Noth- 
ing, perhaps,  is  more  remarkable  about  the 
better  literature  of  the  age  of  Queen  Victoria 
than  its  complete  severance  from  the  leader- 
ship of  that  which  had  gone  before  it,  and 
its  evidence  of  a fresh  and  genuine  inspira- 
tion. It  is  a somewhat  curious  fact,  too, 
very  convenient  for  the  purposes  of  this  his- 
tory, that  the  literature  of  Queen  Victoria’s 
time  thus  far  divides  itself  clearly  enough  in- 
to two  parts.  The  poets,  novelists,  and  his- 
torians who  were  making  their  fame  with 
the  beginning  of  the  reign  had  done  all  their 
best  work  and  made  their  mark  before  these 
later  years,  and  were  followed  by  a new  and 
different  school,  drawing  inspiration  from 
wholly  different  sources,  and  challenging 
comparison  as  antagonists  rather  than  dis- 
ciples. 

We  speak  now  only  of  literature.  In  sci- 
ence the  most  remarkable  developments  were 
reserved  for  the  later  years  of  the  reign. 
We  use  the  words  “ remarkable  develop, 
ments”  in  the  historical  rather  than  in  the 
scientific  sense.  It  would  be  hardly  possible 
to  overrate  the  benefits  conferred  upon  sci- 
ence and  the  wrorld  by  some  of  the  scientific 
men  who  made  the  best  part  of  their  fame  in 
the  earlier  years  of  the  reign.  Some  great 
names  at  once  start  to  the  memory.  We 
think  of  Brewster,  the  experimental  philoso- 
pher, who  combined  in  so  extraordinary  a 
degree  the  strictest  severity  of  scientific  argu- 


106 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


ment  and  form  with  a freedom  of  fancy  and 
imagination  which  lent  picturesqueness  to  all 
his  illustrations  and  invested  his  later  writ- 
ings especially  with  an  indefinable  charm. 
We  think  of  Michael  Faraday,  the  chemist 
and  electrician,  who  knew  so  well  how  to 
reconcile  the  boldest  researches  into  the 
heights  and  deeps  of  science  with  the  sincer- 
est  spirit  of  faith  and  devotion  ; the  memory 
of  whose  delightful  improvisations  on  the 
science  he  loved  to  expound  must  remain 
for  ever  with  all  who  had  the  privilege  of 
hearing  the  unrivalled  lecturer  deliver  his  an- 
nual discourses  at  the  Royal  Institution.  It 
is  not  likely  that  the  name  of  Sir  John  Her- 
schel,  a gifted  member  of  a gifted  family, 
would  be  forgotten  by  any  one  taking  even 
he  hastiest  glance  at  the  science  of  our  time 
—a  family  of  whom  it  may  truly  be  said,  as 
he  German  prose-poet  says  of  his  dreaming 
hero,  that  their  eyes  were  among  the  stars 
ind  their  souls  in  the  blue  ether.  Richard 
Owen’s  is,  in  another  field  of  knowledge,  a 
great  renown.  Owen  has  been  called  the 
Juvier  of  England  and  the  Newton  of  natural 
listory,  and  there  cannot  be  any  doubt  that 
nis  researches  and  discoveries  as  an  anatomist 
and  palaeontologist  have  marked  a distinct 
ara  in  the  development  of  the  study  to  which 
he  devoted  himself.  Hugh  Miller,  the  author 
of  “ The  Old  Red  Sandstone”  and  “ The 
Testimony  of  the  Rocks,”  the  devotee  and 
unfortunately  the  martyr  of  scientific  in- 
quiry, brought  a fresh  and  brilliant  literary 
ability,  almost  as  untutored  and  spontaneous 
as  that  of  his  immortal  countryman,  Robert 
Burns,  to  bear  on  the  exposition  of  the 
studies  to  which  he  literally  sacrificed  his 
life.  If,  therefore,  we  say  that  the  later  pe- 
riod of  Queen  Victoria’s  reign  is  more  re- 
markable in  science  than  the  former,  it  is  not 
because  we  would  assert  that  the  men  of  this 
later  day  contributed  in  richer  measure  to  the 
development  of  human  knowledge,  and  es- 
pecially of  practical  science,  than  those  of  the 
earlier  time.  But  it  was  in  the  later  period 
that  the  scientific  controversies  sprang  up  and 
the  school  arose  which  will  be,  in  the  histo- 
rian’s sense,  most  closely  associated  with  the 
epoch.  The  value  of  the  labors  of  men  like 
Owen  and  Faraday  and  Brewster  is  often  to 
he  appreciated  thoroughly  by  scientific  stu- 
dents alone.  What  they  have  done  is  to  be 
recorded  in  the  history  of  science  rather  than 
in  the  general  and  popular  history  of  a day. 
But  the  school  of  scientific  thought  which 
Darwin  founded,  and  in  which  Huxley  and 
Tyndall  taught,  is  the  subject  of  a contro- 
versy which  may  be  set  down  as  memorable 
in  the  history  of  the  world.  All  science  and 
all  common  life  accepted  with  gratitude  and 
without  contest  the  contributions  made  to  our 
knowledge  by  Faraday  and  Brewster ; but 
the  theories  of  Darwin  divided  the  scientific 
world,  the  religious  world,  and  indeed  all 
society,  into  two  hostile  camps,  and  so  be- 
came an  event  in  history  which  the  historian 
can  no  more  pass  over  than,  in  telling  of  the 
growth  of  the  United  States,  he  could  omit 
any  mention  of  the  great  Civil  War.  Even 
in  dealing  with  the  growth  of  science  it  is  on 
the  story  of  battles  that  the  attention  of  the 
outer  world  must  to  the  end  of  time  be  turned 
with  the  keenest  interest.  This  is,  one  might 
almost  think,  a scientific  law  in  itself,  with 
which  it  would  be  waste  of  time  to  quarrel. 

The  earlier  part  of  the  reign  was  richer  in 
literary  genius  than  the  later  has  thus  far 
been.  Of  course  the  dividing  line  which  we 
draw  is  loosely  drawn,  and  may  sometimes 
appear  to  be  capricious.  Some  of  those  who 
won  their  fame  in  the  earlier  part  continued 
active  workers,  in  certain  instances  steadily 
adding  to  their  celebrity,  through  the  suc- 
ceeding years.  The  figure  of  Thomas  Carlyle 
is  familiar  still  to  all  who  live  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Chelsea.  It  was  late  in  the  reign  of 
Victoria  that  Stuart  Mill  came  out  for  the 
first  time  on  a public  platform  in  London 
after  a life  divided  between  official  work  and 
the  most  various  reading  and  study  ; a life  di- 


vided too  between  the  seclusion  of  Black- 
heath  and  the  more  poetic  seclusion  of  Avig- 
non, among  the  nightingales  whose  song  was 
afterwards  so  sweet  to  his  dying  ears.  He 
came,  strange  and  shy,  into  a world  which 
knew  him  only  in  his  books,  and  to  which 
the  gentle  and  grave  demeanor  of  the  shrink- 
ing and  worn  recluse  seemed  out  of  keeping 
with  the  fearless  brain  and  heart  which  his 
career  as  a thinker  proved  him  to  have.  The 
reign  had  run  for  forty  years  when  Harriet 
Martineau  was  taken  from  that  beautiful  and 
romantic  home  in  the  bosom  of  the  Lake 
country  to  which  her  celebrity  had  drawn  so 
many  famous  visitors  for  so  long  a time. 
The  renown  of  Dickens  began  with  the  reign, 
and  his  death  was  sadly  premature  when  he 
died  in  his  quaint  and  charming  home  at  Gad’s 
Hill,  in  the  country  of  Falstaff  and  Prince 
Hal,  some  thirty-three  years  after.  Mrs. 
Browning  passed  away  very  prematurely ; 
but  it  might  well  he  contended  that  the  fame, 
or  at  least  the  popularity,  of  Robert  Brown- 
ing belongs  to  this  later  part  of  the  reign, 
even  though  his  greatest  work  belongs  to  the 
earlier.  The  author  of  the  most  brilliant  and 
vivid  book  of  travel  known  in  our  modern 
English,  ‘ ‘ Eothen,  ’ ’ made  a sudden  renown 
in  the  earlier  part  of  the  reign,  and  achieved 
a new  and  a different  sort  of  repute  as  the 
historian  of  the  Crimean  War  during  the 
later  part.  Still,  if  we  take  the  close  of  the 
Crimean  War  as  an  event  dividing  the  reign 
thus  far  into  two  parts,  we  shall  find  that 
there  does  seem  a tolerably  clear  division  be- 
tween the  literature  of  the  two  periods.  We 
have  therefore  put  in  this  first  part  of  our 
history  the  men  and  women  who  had  dis- 
tinctly made  their  mark  in  these  former  years, 
and  who  would  have  been  famous  if  from 
that  time  out  they  had  done  nothing  more. 
It  is  with  this  division  borne  in  mind  that 
we  describe  the  reign  as  more  remarkable  in 
the  literature  of  the  earlier  and  in  the  science 
of  these  later  years.  It  is  not  rash  to  say 
that,  although  poets,  historians,  and  novelists 
of  celebrity  came  afterwards  and  may  come 
yet,  the  literature  of  our  time  gave  its  meas- 
ure, as  the  French  phrase  is,  in  that  earlier 
period. 

Alike  in  its  earlier  passages  and  in  its  later 
the  reign  is  rich  in  historical  labors.  The 
names  of  Grote,  Macaulay,  and  Carlyle  occur 
at  once  to  the  mind  when  we  survey  the  former 
period.  Mr.  Grote ’s  history  of  Greece  is  in- 
deed a monumental  piece  of  work.  It  has  all 
that  patience  and  exhaustive  care  which 
principally  mark  the  German  historians,  and 
it  has  an  earnestness  which  is  not  to  be  found 
generally  in  the  representatives  of  what  Car- 
lyle has  called  the  Dryasdust  school.  Grote 
threw  himself  completely  into  the  life  and 
the  politics  of  Athens.  It  was  said  of  him 
with  some  truth  that  he  entered  so  thor- 
oughly into  all  the  political  life  of  Greece  as 
to  become  now  and  then  the  partisan  of  this 
or  that  public  man.  His  own  practical  ac- 
quaintance with  politics  was  undoubtedly  of 
great  service  to  him.  We  have  all  grown 
somewhat  tired  of  hearing  the  words  of  Gib- 
bon quoted  in  which  he  tells  us  that  “ the 
discipline  and  evolutions  of  a modern  battal- 
ion gave  me  a clearer  notion  of  the  phalanx 
and  the  legion  ; and  the  captain  of  the 
Hampshire  Grenadiers  (the  reader  may  smile) 
has  not  been  useless  to  the  historian  of  the 
Roman  Empire.”  Assuredly  the  practical 
knowledge  of  politics  which  Grote  acquired 
during  the  nine  or  ten  years  of  his  Parlia- 
mentary career  was  of  much  service  to  the 
historian  of  Greece.  It  has  been  said  indeed 
of  him  that  he  never  could  quite  keep  from  re- 
garding the  struggles  of  parties  in  Athens  as 
exactly  illustrating  the  principles  disputed  be- 
tween the  Liberals  and  the  Tories  in  Eng- 
land. It  does  not  seem  to  us,  however,  that 
his  political  career  affected  his  historical  stud- 
ies in  any  way  but  by  throwing  greater 
vitality  and  nervousness  into  his  descriptions 
of  Athenian  controversies.  The  difference  be- 
tween a man  who  has  mingled  anywhere  in 


the  active  life  of  politics,  and  one  who  only 
knows  that  life  from  books  and  the  talk  of 
others,  is  specially  likely  to  show  itself  in 
such  a study  as  Grote’s  history.  His  politi- 
cal training  enabled  Grote  to  see  in  the  states- 
men and  soldiers  of  the  Greek  peoples  men 
and  not  trees  walking.  It  taught  him  how  to 
make  the  dry  hones  live.  Mr.  Grote  began 
life  as  what  would  have  been  called  in  later 
years  a Philosophical  Radical.  He  was  a 
close  friend  of  Stuart  Mill,  although  he  did 
not  always  agree  with  Mill  in  his  opinions. 
During  his  Parliamentary  career  he  devoted 
himself  for  the  most  part  to  the  advocacy  of 
the  system  of  vote  by  ballot.  He  brought 
forward  a motion  on  the  subject  every  ses- 
sion, as  Mr.  Charles  Villiers  did  at  one  time 
for  the  repeal  of  the  Com  Laws.  He  only 
gave  up  the  House  of  Commons  in  order  that 
he  might  be  free  to  complete  his  great  his- 
tory. He  did  not  retain  all  his  radical 
opinions  to  the  end  of  his  life  so  thoroughly 
as  Mill  did,  but  owned  with  a certain  regret 
that  in  many  ways  his  views  had  undergone 
modification,  ana  that  he  grew  less  and  less 
ardent  for  political  change,  less  hopeful,  we 
may  suppose,  of  the  amount  of  good  to  be 
done  for  human  happiness  and  virtue  by  the 
spread  and  movement  of  what  are  now  called 
advanced  opinions.  It  must  be  owned  that 
it  takes  a very  vigorous  and  elastic  mind  to 
enable  a man  to  resist  the  growth  of  that 
natural  and  physical  tendency  towards  con- 
servatism or  reaction  which  comes  with  ad- 
vancing years.  It  is  as  well  for  society  on 
the  whole  that  this  should  be  so,  and  that  the 
elders  as  a rule  should  form  themselves  into 
a guard  to  challenge  very  pertinaciously  all 
the  eager  claims  and  demands  for  change 
made  by  hopeful  and  restless  youth.  No 
one  would  more  readily  have  admitted  the 
advantage  that  may  come  from  this  common 
law  of  life  than  Grote’s  friend,  Mill ; al- 
though Mill  remained  to  the  close  of  his 
career  as  full  of  hope  in  the  movement  of  lib- 
eral opinions  as  he  had  been  in  his  boyhood  ; 
still,  to  quote  from  some  noble  words  of 
Schiller,  ‘ ‘ reverencing  as  a man  the  dreams 
of  his  youth.”  In  his  later  years  Grote 
withdrew  from  all  connection  with  active 
political  controversy,  and  was  indeed  curi- 
ously ignorant  of  the  very  bearings  of  some 
of  the  greatest  questions  around  the  settle- 
ment of  which  the  passions  and  interests  of 
another  hemisphere  were  brought  into  fierce 
and  vast  dispute. 

We  have  already  had  occasion  more  than, 
once  to  speak  of  Macaulay,  the  great  Parlia- 
mentary debater  and  statesman.  It  is  the 
less  necessary  to  say  much  of  him  as  an  his- 
torian ; for  Macaulay  will  be  remembered 
rather  as  a man  who  could  do  many  things 
brilliantly  than  as  the  author  of  a history. 
Yet  Macaulay’s  “ History  of  England,”  what- 
ever its  defects,  is  surely  entitled  to  rank  as 
a great  work.  We  do  not  know  whether 
grave  scholars  will  regard  it  as  to  the  honor 
of  the  book  or  the  reverse,  that  it  was  by  far 
the  most  popular  historical  essay  ever  pro- 
duced by  an  Englishman.  The  successive 
volumes  of  Macaulay’s  “ History  of  Eng- 
land,” were  run  after  as  the  Waverley  Nov- 
els might  have  been  at  the  zenith  of  their 
author's  fame.  Living  England  talked  for 
the  time  of  nothing  but  Macaulay’s  ‘ ‘ Eng- 
land. ” Certainly  history  had  never  before 
in  our  country  been  treated  in  a style  so  weU. 
calculated  to  render  it  at  once  popular,  fasci- 
nating, and  fashionable.  Every  chapter  glit- 
tered with  vivid  and  highly  colored  descrip- 
tion. On  almost  every  page  was  found  some 
sentence  of  glowing  eloquence  or  gleaming 
antithesis,  which  at  once  lent  itself  to  citation 
and  repetition.  Not  one  word  of  it  could 
have  failed  to  convey  its  meaning.  The 
whole  stood  out  in  an  atmosphere  clear, 
bright,  and  incapable  of  misty  illusion  as 
that  of  a Swiss  lake  in  summer.  No  shade 
or  faint  haze  of  a doubt  appeared  anywhere. 
The  admirer  of  Macaulay  had  all  the  com- 
fort in  liis  studies  that  a votary  of  the  Roman 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


ini 


107 


Catholic  Church  may  have.  He  had  an  in- 
fallible guide.  He  had  no  need  to  vex  him- 
self with  doubt,  speculation,  or  even  con- 
jecture. This  absolute  certainty  about  every- 
thing was,  beyond  question,  one  great  source 
of  Macaulay’s  popularity.  That  resolute  con- 
viction which  readers  of  a more  intellectual 
class  are  especially  inclined  to  distrust  has 
the  same  charm  for  the  ordinary  reader  that 
it  has  for  children,  who  never  care  to  hear 
any  story  if  they  suppose  the  narrator  does 
not  know  all  about  it  in  such  a way  as  to  ren- 
der question  or  contradiction  impossible. 
But  although  this  was  one  of  the  causes  of 
Macaulay’s  popularity,  it  was  not  the  most 
substantial  cause.  The  brilliancy  of  his  style, 
the  variety  and  aptness  of  his  illustrations, 
and  the  animated  manner  in  which  he  con- 
trived to  set  his  ideas  of  men,  places,  and 
events  before  the  reader — these  were  among 
the  sources  of  success  to  which  his  admirers 
must  look  with  the  greatest  satisfaction.  It 
is  of  late  somewhat  the  fashion  to  disparage 
Macaulay.  He  was  a popular  idol  so  long 
that  in  the  natural  course  of  things  it  has 
come  to  him  to  have  his  title  to  worship,  or 
even  to  faith,  very  generally  questioned.  To 
be  unreasonably  admired  by  one  generation  is 
to  incur  the  certainty  of  being  unreasonably 
disparaged  by  the  next.  The  tendency  of 
late  is  to  assume  that  because  Macaulay  was 
brilliant  he  must  necessarily  be  superficial. 
But  Macaulay  was  not  superficial.  He  was 
dogmatic  ; he  was  full  of  prejudice  ; he  was 
in  all  respects  a better  advocate  than  judge  ; 
be  was  wanting  in  the  calm  impartial  balanc- 
ing faculty  which  an  historian  of  the  highest 
class  ought  to  have  ; but  he  was  not  super- 
ficial. No  man  could  make  out  a better  and 
stronger  case  for  any  side  of  a controversy 
which  he  was  led  to  espouse.  He  was  not 
good  at  drawing  or  explaining  complex  char- 
acters. He  loved  indeed  to  picture  contra- 
dictory and  paradoxical  characters.  Noth- 
ing delighted  him  more  than  to  throw  off  an 
animated  description  of  some  great  person, 
who  having  been  shown  in  the  first  instance 
to  possess  one  set  of  qualities  in  extreme 
prominence,  was  then  shown  to  have  a set  of 
exactly  antagonistic  qualities  in  quite  equal 
prominence.  This  was  not  describing  a 
complex  character.  It  was  merely  embody- 
ing a paradox.  It  was  to  “ solder  close,”  as 
Timon  of  Athens  says,  “impossibilities  and 
make  them  kiss.”  There  was  something  too 
much  of  trick  about  this,  although  it  was 
often  done  with  so  much  power  as  to  bewilder 
the  better  judgment  of  the  calmest  reader. 
But  where  Macaulay  happened  to  be  right  in 
his  view  of  a man  or  an  event,  he  made  his 
convictions  clear  with  an  impressiveness  and 
a brilliancy  such  as  no  modern  writer  has  sur- 
passed. The  world  owes  him  something  for 
having  protested  by  precept  and  example 
against  the  absurd  notion  that  the  “ dignity 
of  history”  required  of  historians  to  be 
grave,  pompous,  and  dull.  He  was  not  a 
Gibbon,  but  he  wrote  with  all  Gibbon’s  de- 
light in  the  picturesqueness  of  a subject,  and 
Gibbon’s  resolve  to  fascinate  as  well  as  to  in- 
struct his  readers.  Macaulay’s  history  tries 
too  much  to  be  an  historical  portrait  gallery. 
The  dangers  of  such  a style  do  not  need  to 
be  pointed  out.  They  are  amply  illustrated 
in  Macaulay’s  sparkling  pages.  But  it  is 
something  to  know  that  their  splendid  quali- 
ties are  far  more  conspicuous  still  than  their 
defects.  Perhaps  very  recent  readers  of  his- 
tory too  may  feel  disposed  to  be  grateful  to 
Macaulay  for  having  written  without  any  pro- 
found philosophical  theory  to  expound.  He 
told  history  like  a story.  He  warmed  up  as 
he  went  along,  and  grew  enamored,  as  a ro- 
mancist  does,  of  this  character  and  angry 
with  that  other.  No  doubt  he  frequently 
thus  did  harm  to  the  trustworthiness  of  his 
narrative  where  it  had  to  deal  with  disputed 
questions,  although  he  probably  enhanced 
the  charms  of  his  animated  style.  But  he 
did  not  set  out  with  a mission  to  expound 
Some  theory  as  to  a race  or  a tendency,  and 


therefore  pledged  beforehand  to  bend  all 
facts  of  the  physical,  the  political,  and  the 
moral  world  to  the  duty  of  bearing  witness 
for  him  and  proclaiming  the  truth  of  his  mes- 
sage to  mankind. 

Macaulay  was  not  exactly  what  the  Ger- 
mans would  call  a many-sided  man.  He 
never  was  anything  but  the  one  Macaulay  in 
all  he  did  or  attempted.  But  he  did  a great 
many  things  well.  Nothing  that  he  ever  at- 
tempted was  done  badly.  He  was  as  suc- 
cessful in  the  composition  of  a pretty  valen- 
tine for  a little  girl  as  he  was  in  his  history, 
his  essays,  his  “Lays  of  Ancient  Rome,” 
and  his  Parliamentary  speeches.  In  every 
thing  he  attempted  he  went  very  near  to  that 
success  which  true  genius  achieves.  In 
everything  he  just  fell  short  of  that  achieve- 
ment. But  he  so  nearly  attained  it  that  the 
reader  who  takes  up  one  of  Macaulay’s 
books  or  speeches  for  the  first  time  is  almost 
sure  to  believe,  under  the  influence  of  the  in- 
stant impression,  that  the  genuine  inspiration 
is  there.  Macaulay  is  understood  to  have  for 
a long  time  thought  of  writing  a romance. 
If  he  had  done  so,  we  may  feel  sure  that 
many  intelligent  readers  would  have  believed 
on  the  first  perusal  of  it  that  it  was  almost  on 
a level  with  Scott,  and  only  as  the  first  im- 
pression gradually  faded,  and  they  came  to 
read  it  over  again,  have  found  out  that  Ma- 
caulay was  not  a Scott  in  fiction  any  more 
than  he  was  a Burke  in  eloquence  or  a Gib- 
bon in  history.  He  filled  for  a long  time  a 
larger  space  in  the  public  mind  than  any 
other  literary  man  in  England,  and  his  style 
greatly  affected  literary  men.  But  his  influ- 
ence did  not  pierce  deeply  down  into  public 
feeling  and  thought  as  that  of  one  or  two 
other  men  of  the  same  period  undoubtedly 
did,  and  does  still.  He  did  not  impress  the 
very  soul  of  English  feeling  as  Mr.  Carlyle, 
for  example,  has  done. 

No  influence  suffused  the  age  from  first  to 
last  more  strongly  than  that  of  Thomas  Car- 
lyle. England’s  very  way  of  thinking  was 
at  one  time  profoundly  affected  by  Carlyle. 
He  introduced  the  English  people  to  the  great 
German  authors,  very  much  as  Lessing  had 
introduced  the  Germans  to  Shakespeare  and 
the  old  English  ballads.  Carlyle  wrote  in  a 
style  which  was  so  little  like  that  ordinarily 
accepted  as  English,  that  the  best  thing  to  be 
said  for  it  was  that  it  was  not  exactly  Ger- 
man. At  one  time  it  appeared  to  be  so  com- 
pletely moulded  on  that  of  Jean  Paul  Rich- 
ter, that  not  a few  persons  doubted  whether 
the  new  comer  really  had  any  ideas  of  his 
own.  But  Carlyle  soon  proved  that  he  could 
think  for  himself  ; and  he  very  often  proved 
it  by  thinking  wrong.  There  was  in  him  a 
strong,  deep  vein  of  the  poetic.  Long  after 
he  had  evidently  settled  down  to  be  a writer 
of  prose  and  nothing  else,  it  still  seemed  to 
many  that  his  true  sphere  was  poetry.  The 
grim  seriousness  which  he  had  taken  from 
his  Scottish  birth  and  belongings  was  made 
hardly  less  grim  by  the  irony  which  continu- 
ally gleamed  or  scowled  through  it.  Truth 
and  force  were  the  deities  of  Carlyle’s  espe- 
cial worship.  “ The  eternal  verities”  sat  on 
the  top  of  his  Olympus.  To  act  out  the  truth 
in  life,  and  make  others  act  it  out,  would  re- 
quire some  force  more  strong,  ubiquitous  and 
penetrating  than  we  can  well  obtain  from  the 
slow  deliberations  of  an  ordinary  Parlia- 
ment, with  its  debates  and  divisions  and 
everlasting  formulas.  Therefore,  to  enforce  his 
eternal  verities,  Carlyle  always  preached  up 
and  yearned  for  the  strong  man,  the  poem  in 
action,  whom  the  world  in  our  day  had  not 
found,  and  perhaps  could  not  appreciate.  If 
this  man  were  found,  it  would  be  his  duty 
and  his  privilege  to  drill  us  all  as  in  some 
vast  camp,  and  compel  us  to  do  the  right 
thing  to  his  dictation.  It  cannot  be  doubted 
that  this  preaching  of  the  divine  right  of 
force  had  a serious  and  sometimes  a very  det- 
rimental effect  upon  the  public  opinion  of 
England.  It  degenerated  often  into  affecta- 
tion, alike  with  the  teacher  and  the  disciples. 


But  the  influence  of  Carlyle  in  preaching 
earnestness  and  truth,  in  art  and  letters  and 
everything  else,  had  a healthy  and  very  re- 
markable effect  entirely  outside  the  regions 
of  the  moralist,  who  in  this  country  at  least 
has  always  taught  the  same  lesson.  It  is  not 
probable  that  individual  men  were  made 
much  more  truthful  in  England  by  Carlyle’s 
glorification  of  the  eternal  verities  than  they 
would  have  been  without  it.  But  his  influ- 
ence on  letters  and  art  was  peculiar,  and  was 
not  evanescent.  Carlyle  is  distinctly  the 
founder  of  a school  of  history  and  a school 
of  art.  In  the  meanwhile  we  may  regard 
him  simply  as  a great  author,  and  treat  his 
books  as  literary  studies  and  not  as  gospels. 
Thus  regarded,  we  shall  find  that  he  writes 
in  a style  which  every  sober  critic  would  feel 
bound  to  condemn,  but  which  nevertheless 
the  soberest  critic  is  forced  continually,  de- 
spite of  himself  and  liis  rules,  to  admire. 
For  out  of  the  strange  jargon  which  he  seems 
to  have  deliberately  adopted,  Carlyle  has  un- 
doubtedly constructed  a wonderfully  expres- 
sive medium  in  which  to  speak  his  words  of 
remonstrance  and  admonition.  It  is  a man- 
nerism, but  a mannerism  into  which  a great 
deal  of  the  individuality  of  the  man  seems  to 
have  entered.  It  is  not  wholly  affectation  or 
superficiality.  Carlyle’s  own  soul  seems  to 
speak  out  in  it  more  freely  and  strenuously 
than  it  would  in  the  ordinary  English  of  so- 
ciety and  literature.  No  tongue,  says  Rich- 
ter, is  eloquent  save  in  its  own  language  ; 
and  this  strange  language  which  he  has  made 
for  himself  does  really  appear  to  be  the  na- 
tive tongue  of  Carlyle’s  powerful  and  melan- 
choly eloquence.  Carlyle  is  endowed  with  a 
marvellous  power  of  depicting  stormy  scenes 
and  rugged  daring  natures.  At  times  strange 
wild  piercing  notes  of  the  pathetic  are  heard 
through  his  strenuous  and  fierce  bursts  of 
eloquence  like  the  wail  of  a clarion  thrilling 
between  the  blasts  of  a storm.  His  history 
of  the  French  Revolution  is  history  read  by 
lightning.  Of  this  remarkable  book  John 
Stuart  Mill  supplied  the  principal  material ; 
for  Mill  at  one  time  thought  of  writing  a his- 
tory of  the  Revolution  himself,  but,  giving 
up  the  idea,  placed  the  materials  he  had  col- 
lected at  the  service  of  Carlyle.  Carlyle  used 
the  materials  in  his  own  way.  He  is  indebt- 
ed to  no  one  for  his  method  of  making  up 
his  history.  With  all  its  defects  the  book  is 
one  of  the  very  finest  our  age  has  produced. 
Its  characters  stand  out  like  portraits  by 
Rembrandt.  Its  crowds  live  and  move. 
The  picture  of  Mirabeau  is  worthy  of  the 
hand  of  the  great  German  poet  who  gave  us 
Wallenstein.  But  Carlyle’s  style  has  intro- 
duced into  this  country  a thoroughly  false 
method  of  writing  history.  It  is  a method 
which  lias  little  regard  for  the  “dry  light” 
which  Bacon  approved.  It  works  under  the 
varying  glare  of  colored  lights.  Its  purpose 
is  to  express  scorn  of  one  set  of  ideas  and 
men,  and  admiration  of  another.  Given  the 
man  we  admire,  then  all  his  doings  and  ways 
must  be  admirable  ; and  the  historian  pro- 
ceeds to  work  this  principle  out.  Carlyle’s 
Mirabeau  is  as  truly  a creature  of  romance  as 
the  Monte  Christo  of  Dumas.  This  way  of 
going  to  work  became  even  more  apparent, 
as  the  mannerisms  became  more  incessant,  in 
Carlyle’s  later  writings — in  the  “ Frederick 
the  Great,”  for  example.  The  reader  dares 
not  trust  such  history.  It  is  of  little  value  as 
an  instructor  in  the  lessons  of  the  times  and 
events  it  deals  with.  It  only  tells  us  what 
Carlyle  thought  of  the  times  and  the  events 
and  the  men  who  were  the  chief  actors  in 
them.  Nor  does  Carlyle  bequeath  many 
new  ideas  to  the  world  which  he  stirred  by 
his  stormy  eloquence.  That  falsehood  can- 
not prevail  over  truth  in  the  end,  nor  simu- 
lacra do  the  work  of  realities,  is  not  after  all 
a lesson  which  earth  can  be  said  to  have 
waited  for  up  to  the  nineteenth  century  and 
the  coming  of  Carlyle  ; and  yet  it  would  be 
hard  to  point  to  any  other  philosophical  out- 
come of  Mr.  Carlyle’s  teaching.  His  value 


108 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


is  in  liis  eloquence,  liis  power,  his  passion, 
and  pathos  ; his  stirring  and  lifelike  pictures 
of  human  character,  whether  faithful  to  the 
historical  originals  or  not ; and  the  vein  of 
poetry  which  runs  through  all  his  best  writ- 
ings, and  sometimes  makes  even  the  least 
sympathetic  reader  believe  that  he  has  to  do 
with  a genuine  poet. 

In  strongest  contrast  to  the  influence  of 
Carlyle  may  be  set  the  influence  of  Mill. 
Except  where  the  professed  teachers  of  re- 
ligious creeds  are  concerned,  there  can  be 
found  no  other  man  in  the  reign  of  Victoria 
who  had  anything  like  the  influence  over 
English  thought  that  Mill  aud  Carlyle  pos- 
sessed. Mill  was  a devoted  believer  in  the 
possibilities  of  human  nature  and  of  liberty. 
If  Rousseau  was  the  apostle  of  affliction,  Mill 
was  surely  the  apostle  of  freedom.  He  be- 
lieved that  human  society  might  be  brought 
to  something  not  far  removed  from  perfec- 
tion by  the  influence  of  education  and  of 
freedom  acting  on  the  best  impulses  and  dis- 
ciplining the  emotions  of  men  and  women. 
Mill  was  a strange  blending  of  political  econ- 
omist and  sentimentalist.  It  was  not  alto- 
gether in  humorous  exaggeration  that  some- 
body said  he  was  Adam  Smith  and  Petrarch 
in  one.  The  curious  seclusion  in  which  he 
was  brought  up  by  his  father,  the  wonderful 
discipline  of  study  to  which  in  his  very  in- 
fancy he  was  subjected,  would  have  made 
something  strange  and  striking  out  of  a com- 
monplace nature  ; and  Mill  was  in  any  case 
a man  of  genius.  There  was  an  antique  sim- 
plicity and  purity  about  his  life  which  re- 
moved him  altogether  from  the  ways  of  or- 
dinary society.  But  the  defect  of  his  teach- 
ing as  an  ethical  guide  was  that  he  made  too 
little  allowance  for  the  influence  of  ordinary 
society.  He  always  seemed  to  act  on  the 
principle  that  with  true  education  and  noble 
example  the  most  commonplace  men  could 
be  persuaded  to  act  like  heroes,  and  to  act 
like  heroes  always.  The  great  service  which 
he  rendered  to  the  world  in  his  Political 
Economy  and  his  System  of  Logic  is  of 
course  independent  of  his  controverted  theo- 
ries and  teachings.  These  works  would,  if 
they  were  all  he  had  written,  place  him  in  the 
very  front  rank  of  English  thinkers  and  in- 
structors. But  these  only  represent  half  of 
his  influence  on  the  public  opinion  of  his 
time.  His  faith  in  the  principle  of  human 
liberty  led  him  to  originate  the  movement  for 
what  is  called  the  emancipation  of  women. 
Opinions  will  doubtless  long  differ  as  to  the 
advantages  of  the  movement,  but  there  can 
be  no  possible  difference  of  judgment  as  to 
the  power  and  fascination  of  Mill’s  advocacy 
and  the  influence  he  exercised.  He  did  not 
succeed  in  his  admirable  essay  “ On  Liberty” 
in  establishing  the  rule  or  principle  by  which 
men  may  decide  between  the  right  of  free 
expression  of  opinion  and  the  right  of  au- 
thority to  ordain  silence.  Probably  no  pre- 
cise boundary  line  can  ever  be  drawn  ; and 
in  this,  as  in  so  much  else,  lawmakers  aud 
peoples  must  be  content  with  a compromise. 
But  Mill’s  is  at  least  a noble  plea  for  the  full- 
est possible  liberty  of  utterance  ; and  he  has 
probably  carried  the  argument  as  far  as  it 
ever  can  be  carried.  There  never  was  a 
more  lucid  and  candid  reasoner.  The  most 
difficult  and  abstruse  questions  became  clear 
by  the  light  of  his  luminous  exposition. 
Something  too  of  human  interest  and  sympa- 
thy became  infused  into  the  most  seemingly 
arid  discussions  of  political  economy  by  the 
virtue  of  his  emotional  and  half  poetic  na- 
ture. It  was  well  said  of  him  that  he  recon- 
ciled political  economy  with  human  feeling. 
His  style  was  clear  as  light.  Mill,  said  one 
of  his  critics,  lives  in  light.  Sometimes  his 
language  rose  to  a noble  and  dignified  elo- 
quence ; here  and  there  are  passages  of  a 
grave,  keen  irony.  Into  the  questions  of  re- 
ligious belief  which  arise  in  connection  with 
his  works  it  is  no  part  of  our  business  to  en- 
ter ; but  it  may  be  remarked  that  his  latest 
writings  seem  to  show  that  his  views  were 


undergoing  much  modification  in  his  closing 
years.  His  opponents  would  have  allowed 
as  readily  as  his  supporters  that  no  man  could 
have  been  more  sincerely  inspired  with  a de- 
sire to  arrive  at  the  truth  ; and  that  none 
could  be  more  resolute  to  follow  the  course 
which  his  conscience  told  him  to  be  right. 
He  carried  this  resolute  principle  into  his 
warmest  controversies,  and  it  was  often  re- 
marked that  he  usually  began  by  stating  the 
case  of  the  adversary  better  than  the  adver- 
sary couly  have  done  it  for  himself.  Apply- 
ing to  his  own  character  the  same  truthful 
method  of  inquiry  which  he  applied  to  oth- 
ers, Mill  has  given  a very  accurate  descrip- 
tion of  one  at  least  of  the  qualities  by  which 
he  was  able  to  accomplish  so  much.  He 
tells  us  in  his  Autobiography  that  he  had 
from  an  early  period  considered  that  the 
most  useful  part  he  could  take  in  the  domain 
of  thought  was  that  of  an  interpreter  of  orig- 
inal thinkers,  and  mediator  between  them 
and  the  public.  “ I had  always  a humble 
opinion  of  my  own  powers  as  an  original 
thinker,  except  in  abstract  science  (logic, 
metaphysics,  and  the  theoretic  principles  of 
political  economy  and  politics),  but  thought 
myself  much  superior  to  most  of  my  contem- 
poraries in  willingness  and  ability  to  learn 
from  everybody  ; as  I found  hardly  any  one 
who  made  such  a point  of  examining  what 
was  said  in  defence  of  all  opinions,  however 
new  or  however  old,  in  the  conviction  that 
even  if  they  were  errors  there  might  be  a sub- 
stratum of  truth  underneath  them,  and  that 
in  any  case  the  discovery  of  what  it  was  that 
made  them  plausible  would  be  a benefit  to 
truth.  ” This  was  not  assuredly  Mill's  great- 
est merit,  but  it  was  perhaps  his  most  pecu- 
liar quality.  He  was  an  original  thinker,  de- 
spite his  own  sincere  disclaimer ; but  he 
founded  no  new  system.  He  could  be 
trusted  to  examine  and  expound  any  system 
with  the  most  perfect  fairness  and  candor  ; 
and  even  where  it  was  least  in  harmony  with 
his  own  ideas  to  do  the  fullest  justice  to 
every  one  of  its  claims. 

Harriet  Martineau’s  career  as  a woman  of 
letters  and  a teacher  began  indeed  before  the 
reign  of  Queen  Victoria,  but  it  was  carried 
on  almost  without  interruption  during  nearly 
forty  years  of  the  reign.  She  was  political 
economist,  novelist,  historian,  biographer, 
and  journalist ; and  in  no  path  did  she  fail 
to  make  her  mark.  Few  women  could  have 
turned  to  the  occupations  of  a political  writer 
under  greater  physical  disadvantages  ; and 
no  man  in  this  line  of  life,  however  well  fur- 
nished by  nature  with  physical  and  intellect- 
ual qualifications  for  success,  could  have 
done  better  work.  She  wrote  some  exquisite 
little  stories,  and  one  or  two  novels  of  more 
ambitious  character.  It  is  praise  enough  to 
give  them  when  we  say  that,  although  fiction 
certainly  was  not  work  for  which  she  was 
most  especially  qualified,  yet  what  she  did 
seems  to  be  destined  to  live  and  hold  a place 
in  our  literature.  She  was,  so  far  as  we 
know,  the  only  English  woman  who  ever 
achieved  distinct  and  great  success  as  a writ- 
er of  leading  articles  for  a daily  newspaper. 
Her  strong  prejudices  and  dislikes  prevent 
her  from  being  always  regarded  as  a trust- 
worthy historian.  Her  History  of  the 
Thirty  Years’  Peace”— -for  it  may  be  regard- 
ed as  wholly  hers,  although  Charles  Knight 
began  it — is  a work  full  of  vigorous  thought 
and  clear  description,  with  here  and  there 
passages  of  genuine  eloquence.  But  it  is 
marred  in  its  effect  as  a trustworthy  narrative 
by  the  manner  in  which  the  authoress  yields 
here  and  there  to  inveterate  and  wholesale 
dislikes ; and  sometimes,  though  not  so 
often  or  so  markedly,  to  an  overwrought 
hero-worship.  Miss  Martineau  had  to  a 
great  extent  an  essentially  masculine  mind. 
She  was  often  reproached  with  being  unfem- 
inine ; and  assuredly  she  would  have  been 
surprised  to  hear  that  there  was  anything 
womanish  in  her  way  of  criticising  public 
events  and  men.  Yet  in  reading  her  “ His- 


tory” one  is  sometimes  amused  to  find  that 
that  partisanship  which  is  commonly  set 
down  as  a specially  feminine  quality  affects 
her  estimate  of  a statesman.  Hers  is  not  by 
any  means  the  Carlylean  way  of  starting  with 
a theory  and  finding  all  virtue  and  glory  in 
the  man  who  seems  to  embody  it,  and  all 
baseness  and  stupidity  in  his  opponents. 
But  when  she  takes  a dislike  to  a particular 
Individual,  she  seems  to  assume  that  where 
he  was  wrong  he  must  have  been  wrong  of 
set  malign  purpose,  and  that  where  he 
chanced  to  be  in  the  right  it  was  in  mistake, 
and  in  despite  of  his  own  greater  inclination 
to  be  in  the  wrong.  It  is  fortunate  that  these 
dislikes  are  not  many,  and  also  that  they  soon 
show  themselves,  and  therefore  cease  to  be 
seriously  misleading.  In  all  other  respects 
the  book  well  deserves  careful  study.  The 
life  of  the  woman  is  a study  still  more  deep- 
ly interesting.  Others  of  her  sex  there  were 
of  greater  genius,  even  in  her  own  time  ; but 
no  English  woman  ever  followed  with  such 
perseverance  and  success  a career  of  literary 
and  political  labor. 

“ The  blue-peter  has  long  been  flying  at 
my  foremast,  and,  now  that  I am  in  my 
ninety-second  year,  I must  soon  expect  the 
signal  for  sailing.”  In  this  quaint  and 
cheery  way  Mary  Somerville,  many  years 
after  the  period  at  which  we  have  now  ar- 
rived in  this  work,  described  her  condition 
and  her  quiet  waiting  for  death.  No  one 
surely  could  have  better  earned  the  right  to 
die  by  the  labors  of  a long  life  devoted  to  the 
education  and  the  improvement  of  her  kind. 
Mary  Somerville  has  probably  no  rival 
among  women  as  a scientific  scholar.  Her 
summary  of  Laplace’s  “ Mecanique  Celeste,” 
her  treatise  on  the  “ Connection  of  the  Phys- 
ical Sciences,”  and  her  ‘‘Physical  Geogra- 
phy,” would  suffice  to  place  any  student, 
man  or  woman,  in  the  foremost  rank  of 
scientific  expounders.  The  “ Physical  Geog- 
raphy” is  the  only  one  of  Mrs.  Somerville’s 
remarkable  works  which  was  published  in 
the  reign  of  Queen  Victoria  ; but  the  publica- 
tion of  the  other  two  preceded  the  opening 
of  the  reign  by  so  short  a time,  and  her  ca- 
reer and  her  fame  so  entirely  belong  to  the 
Victorian  period,  that,  even  if  the  “ Physical 
Geography”  had  never  been  published,  she 
must  be  included  in  this  history.  “ I was  in- 
tensely ambitious,”  Mrs.  Somerville  says  of 
herself  in  her  earlier  days,  ‘ ‘ to  excel  in  some- 
thing, for  I felt  in  my  own  breast  that  wom- 
en were  capable  of  taking  a higher  place  in 
creation  than  that  assigned  to  them  in  my 
early  days,  which  was  very  low.  ” It  is  not 
exaggeration  to  say  that  Mrs.  Somerville  dis- 
tinctly raised  the  world’s  estimate  of  wom- 
an’s capacity  for  the  severest  and  the  lofti- 
est scientific  pursuits.  She  possessed  the 
most  extraordinary  power  of  concentration, 
amounting  to  an  entire  absorption  in  the  sub- 
ject which  she  happened  to  be  studying,  to 
the  exclusion  of  all  disturbing  sights  and 
sounds.  She  had  in  a supreme  degree  that 
which  Carlyle  calls  the  first  quality  of  ge- 
nius, an  immense  capacity  for  taking  trouble. 
She  had  also,  happily  for  herself,  an  im- 
mense capacity  for  finding  enjoyment  in  al- 
most everything  : in  new  places,  people,  and 
thoughts  ; in  the  old  familiar  scenes  and 
friends  and  associations.  Hers  was  a noble, 
calm,  fully-rounded  life.  She  worked  as 
steadfastly  and  as  eagerly  in  her  scientific 
studies  as  Harriet  Martineau  did  with  her 
economics  and  her  politics  ; but  she  had  a 
more  cheery,  less  sensitive,  less  eager  and 
impatient  nature  than  Harriet  Martineau. 
She  was  able  to  pursue  her  most  intricate 
calculations  after  she  had  passed  her  nine- 
tieth year  ; aud  one  of  her  chief  regrets  in 
dying  was  that  she  should  not  “ live  to  see 
the  distance  of  the  earth  from  the  sun  deter- 
mined by  the  transit  of  Venus,  and  the  source 
of  the  most  renowned  of  rivers,  the  discovery 
of  which  will  immortalize  the  name  of  Dr. 
Livingstone.” 

The  paths  of  the  two  poets  who  first  sprang 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


109 


into  fame  in  the  present  reign  are  strangely 
remote  from  each  other.  Mr.  Tennyson  and 
Mr.  Browning  are  as  unlike  in  style  and 
choice  of  subject,  and  indeed  in  the  whole 
spirit  of  their  poetry,  as  Wordsworth  and 
Byron.  Mr.  Tennyson  deals  with  incident 
and  picturesque  form,  and  graceful  legend, 
and  with  so  much  of  doubt  and  thought  and 
yearning  melancholy  as  would  belong  to  a 
refined  and  cultured  intellect  under  no  greater 
stress  or  strain  than  the  ordinary  chances  of 
life  among  educated  Englishmen  might  be 
expected  to  impose.  He  has  revived  with 
great  success  the  old  Arthurian  legends,  and 
made  them  a part  of  the  living  literature  of 
England.  But  the  knights  and  ladies  whom 
he  paints  are  refined,  graceful,  noble,  with- 
out roughness,  without  wild  or  at  all  events 
complex  and  distracting  passions.  It  may 
perhaps  be  said  that  Tennyson  has  taken  for 
his  province  all  the  beauty,  all  the  nobleness, 
all  the  feeling  that  lie  near  to  or  on  the  sur- 
face of  life  and  of  nature.  His  object  might 
seem  to  he  that  which  Lessing  declared  the 
true  object  of  all  art,  “ to  delight  but  it  is 
to  delight  in  a somewhat  narrower  sense  than 
was  the  meaning  of  Lessing.  Beauty,  mel- 
ancholy, and  repose  are  the  elements  of  Ten- 
nyson’s poetry.  There  is  no  storm,  no  con- 
flict, no  complication.  Mr.  Browning,  on 
the  other  hand,  delights  in  perplexed  prob- 
lems of  character  and  life  ; in  studying  the 
effects  of  strange  contrasting  forces  of  pas- 
sion coming  into  play  under  peculiar  and  dis- 
tracting conditions.  All  that  lies  beneath  the 
surface  ; all  that  is  out  of  the  common  track 
of  emotion  ; all  that  is  possible,  that  is  poet- 
ically conceivable,  but  that  the  outer  air  and 
the  daily  walks  of  life  never  see,  this  is  what 
specially  attracts  Mr.  Browning.  In  Tenny- 
son a knight  of  King  Arthur’s  mythical  court 
has  the  emotions  of  a polished  English  gen- 
tleman of  our  day,  and  nothing  more.  Mr. 
Browning  would  prefer,  in  treating  of  a pol- 
ished English  gentleman  of  our  day,  to  ex- 
hibit him  under  some  conditions  which  should 
draw  out  in  him  all  the  strange  elementary 
passions  and  complications  of  emotion  that 
lie  far  down  in  deeps  below  the  surface  of 
the  best  ordered  civilization.  The  tendency  of 
the  one  poet  is  naturally  to  fall  now  and  then 
into  the  sweetly  insipid  ; of  the  other  to 
wander  away  into  the  tangled  regions  of  the 
grotesque.  It  is  perhaps  only  natural  that 
under  such  conditions  the  one  poet  should  be 
profoundly  concerned  for  beauty  of  form, 
and  the  latter  almost  absolutely  indifferent  to 
it.  No  poet  has  more  finished  beauty  of 
style  and  exquisite  charm  of  melody  than 
Tennyson.  N one  certainly  can  be  more  often 
wanting  in  grace  of  form  and  delight  of  soft 
sound  than  Mr.  Browning.  There  are  many 
passages  and  even  many  poems  of  Browning 
which  show  that  the  poet  could  be  melodious 
if  he  would  ; but  he  seems  sometimes  as  if 
he  took  a positive  delight  in  perplexing  the 
reader’s  ear  with  harsh  untuneful  sounds. 
Mr.  Browning  commonly  allows  the  study  of 
the  purely  psychological  to  absorb  too  much 
of  his  moods  and  of  his  genius.  It  has  a fas- 
cination for  him  which  he  is  seemingly  un- 
able to  resist.  He  makes  of  his  poems  too 
often  mere  searchings  into  strange  deeps  of 
human  character  and  human  error.  He  sel- 
dom abandons  himself  altogether  to  the  in- 
spiration of  the  poet ; he  hardly  ever  deserves 
the  definition  of  the  minstrel  given  in  Goethe’s 
ballad  who  “ sings  but  as  the  song-bird 
sings.”  Moreover,  Mr.  Browning  has  an 
almost  morbid  taste  for  the  grotesque  ; he 
is  not  unfrequently  a sort  of  poetic  Callot. 
It  has  to  be  added  that  Mr.  Browning  is  sel- 
dom easy  to  understand,  and  that  there  are 
times  when  he  is  only  to  be  understood  at 
the  expense  of  as  much  thought  and  study  as 
one  might  give  to  a controverted  passage  in 
an  ancient  author.  This  is  a defect  of  art, 
and  a very  serious  defect.  The  more  devoted 
of  Mr.  Browning’s  admirers  will  tell  us  no 
doubt  that  the  poet  is  not  bound  to  supply  us 
with  brains  as  well  as  poetry,  and  that  if  we 


cannot  understand  what  he  says  it  is  the  fault 
simply  of  our  stupidity.  But  an  ordinary 
man  who  finds  that  he  can  understand  Shake- 
speare and  Milton,  Drydenand  Wordsworth, 
Byron  and  Keats  without  any  trouble,  may 
surely  be  excused  if  he  does  not  set  down  his 
difficulty  about  some  of  Browning’s  poems 
wholly  to  the  account  of  his  own  dulness.  It 
may  well  be  doubted  whether  there  is  any 
idea  so  subtle  that  if  the  poet  can  actually 
realize  it  in  his  own  mind  clearly  for  himself 
the  English  language  will  not  be  found  capa- 
ble of  expressing  it  with  sufficient  clearness. 
The  language  has  been  made  to  do  this  for 
the  most  refined  reasonings  of  philosophical 
schools,  for  transcendentalists  and  utilita- 
rians, for  psychologists  and  metaphysicians. 
No  intelligent  person  feels  any  difficulty  in 
understanding  what  Mill  or  Herbert  Spencer 
or  Huxley  means  ; and  it  can  hardly  be  said 
that  the  ideas  Mr.  Browning  desires  to  con- 
vey to  his  readers  are  more  difficult  of  expo- 
sition than  some  of  those  which  the  authors 
we  name  have  contrived  to  set  out  with  a 
white  light  of  clearness  all  round  them.  The 
plain  truth  is  that  Mr.  Browning  is  a great  poet 
in  spite  of  some  of  the  worst  defects  that  ever 
stood  between  a poet  and  popularity.  He  is 
a great  poet  by  virtue  of  his  commanding 
genius,  his  fearless  imagination,  his  pene- 
trating pathos.  He  strikes  an  iron  harp- 
string. In  certain  of  his  moods  his  poetry  is 
like  that  of  the  terrible  lyre  in  the  weird  old 
Scottish  ballad,  the  lyre  that  was  made  of  the 
murdered  maiden’s  breast-bone,  and  which 
told  its  fearful  story  in  tones  ' ‘ that  would 
melt  a heart  of  stone.”  In  strength  and 
depth  of  passion  and  pathos,  in  wild  humor, 
in  emotion  of  every  kind,  Mr.  Browning  is 
much  superior  to  Mr.  Tennyson.  The  Poet 
Laureate  is  the  completer  man.  Mr.  Tenny- 
son is  beyond  doubt  the  most  complete  of  the 
poets  of  Queen  Victoria’s  time.  No  one  else 
has  the  same  combination  of  melody,  beauty 
of  description,  culture  and  intellectual  power. 
He  has  sweetness  and  strength  in  exquisite 
combination.  If  a just  balance  of  poetic 
powers  were  to  be  the  crown  of  a poet,  then 
undoubtedly  Mr.  Tennyson  must  be  pro- 
claimed the  greatest  English  poet  of  our  time. 
The  reader’s  estimate  of  Browning  and  Ten- 
nyson will  probably  be  decided  by  his  predilec- 
tion for  the  higher  effort  or  for  the  more  per- 
fect art.  Browning’s  is  surely  the  higher  aim 
in  poetic  art ; but  of  the  art  which  he  essays 
Tennyson  is  by  far  the  completer  master. 
Tennyson  has  undoubtedly  thrown  away 
much  of  his  sweetness  and  his  exquisite  grace 
of  form  on  mere  triflings  and  pretty  conceits  ; 
and  perhaps  as  a retribution  those  poems  of 
his  which  are  most  familiar  in  the  popular 
mouth  are  just  those  which  least  do  justice 
to  his  genuine  strength  and  intellect.  The 
cheap  sentiment  of  “ Lady  Clara  Vere  de 
Vere,”  the  yet  cheaper  pathos  of  “ The  May 
Queen,”  are  in  the  minds  of  thousands  the 
choicest  representation  of  the  genius  of  the 
poet  who  wrote  ‘‘In  Memoriam”  and  the 
“ Morte  d’ Arthur.”  Mr.  Browning,  on  the 
other  hand,  has  chosen  to  court  the  approval 
of  his  time  on  terms  of  such  disadvantage  as 
an  orator  might  who  insisted  in  addressing 
an  assemblage  in  some  tongue  which  they  but 
imperfectly  understood.  It  is  the  fault  of 
Mr.  Browning  himself  if  he  has  for  his  only 
audience  and  admirers  men  and  women  of 
culture,  and  misses  altogether  that  broad 
public  audience  to  which  most  poets  have 
chosen  to  sing,  and  which  all  true  poets,  one 
would  think,  must  desire  to  reach  with  their 
song.  It  is  on  the  other  hand  assuredly  Mr. 
Tennyson’s  fault  if  he  has  by  his  too  frequent 
condescension  to  the  drawing-room,  and  even 
the  young  ladies’  school,  made  men  and 
women  of  culture  forget  for  the  moment  his 
best  things,  and  credit  him  with  no  higher 
gift  than  that  of  singing  “ virginibus  pueris- 
que.  ” One  quality  ought  to  be  mentioned  as 
common  to  these  two  poets  who  have  so  little 
else  in  common.  They  are  both  absolutely 
faithful  to  nature  and  truth  in  their  pictures 


of  the  earth  and  its  scenes  and  seasons.  Al- 
most all  the  great  poets  of  the  past  age,  even 
including  Wordsworth  himself,  were  now 
and  then  content  to  generalize  nature  ; to 
take  some  things  for  granted  ; to  use  their 
memory,  or  the  eyes  of  others,  rather  than 
their  own  eyes,  when  they  had  to  describe 
changes  on  leaf,  or  sky,  or  water.  It  is  the 
characteristic  of  Tennyson  and  Browning 
that  they  deal  with  nature  in  a spirit  of  the 
most  faithful  loyalty.  Not  the  branch  of  a 
tree,  nor  the  cry  of  a bird,  nor  the  shifting 
colors  on  sea  or  sky  will  be  found  described 
on  their  pages  otherwise  than  as  the  eye  sees 
for  itself  at  the  season  of  which  the  poet 
tells.  In  reading  Tennyson’s  description  of 
woodland  and  forest  scenes  one  might  almost 
fancy  that  he  can  catch  the  exact  peculiari- 
ties of  sound  in  the  rustling  and  moaning  of 
each  separate  tree.  In  some  of  Mr.  Brown- 
ing’s pictures  of  Italian  scenery  every  detail 
is  so  perfect  that  many  a one  journeying 
along  an  Italian  road  and  watching  the  little 
mouse-colored  cattle  as  they  drink  at  the 
stream,  may  for  the  moment  almost  feel  un- 
certain whether  he  is  looking  on  a page  of  liv- 
ing reality  or  recalling  to  memory  a page  from 
the  author  of  “The  Ring  and  the  Book.” 
The  poets  seem  to  have  returned  to  the  fresh 
simplicity  of  a far  distant  age  of  poetry, 
when  a man  described  exactly  what  he  saw, 
and  was  put  to  describing  it  because  he  saw 
it.  In  most  of  the  intermediate  times  a poet 
describes  because  some  other  poet  has  de- 
scribed before,  and  has  said  that  in  nature 
there  are  such  and  such  beautiful  things 
which  every  true  poet  must  see,  and  is  bound 
to  acknowledge  accordingly  in  his  verse. 

These  two  are  the  greatest  of  our  poets  in 
the  earlier  part  of  the  reign  ; indeed  in  the 
reign  early  or  late  so  far.  But  there  are 
other  poets  also  of  whom  we  must  take  ac- 
count. Mrs.  Browning  has  often  been 
described  as  the  greatest  poetess  of  whom  we 
know  anything  since  Sappho.  This  descrip- 
tion, however,  seems  to  carry  with  it  a much 
higher  degree  of  praise  than  it  really  bears. 
It  has  to  be  remembered  that  there  is  no  great 
poetess  of  whom  we  know  anything  from 
the  time  of  Sappho  to  that  of  Mrs.  Browning. 
In  England  we  have  hardly  had  any  woman 
but  Mrs.  Browning  alone  who  really  deserves 
to  rank  with  poets.  She  takes  a place  alto- 
gether different  from  that  of  any  Mrs.  He- 
mans  or  such  singer  of  sweet,  mild,  and  in- 
nocent note.  Mrs.  Browning  would  rank 
highly  among  poets  without  any  allowance 
being  claimed  for  her  sex.  But  estimated 
in  this  way,  which  assuredly  she  would  have 
chosen  for  herself,  she  can  hardly  be  admit- 
ted to  stand  with  the  foremost  even  of  our 
modern  day.  She  is  one  of  the  most  sympa- 
thetic of  poets.  She  speaks  to  the  hearts  of 
numbers  of  readers  who  think  Tennyson  all 
too  sweet,  smooth,  and  trivial,  and  Robert 
Browning  harsh  and  rugged.  She  speaks 
especially  to  the  emotional  in  woman.  In 
all  moods  when  men  and  women  are  distract- 
ed by  the  bewildering  conditions  of  life, 
when  they  feel  themselves  alternately  dazzled 
by  its  possibilities  and  baffled  by  its  limita- 
tions, the  poems  of  Elizabeth  Browning 
ought  to  find  sympathetic  ears.  But  the  po- 
ems are  not  the  highest  which  merely  appeal 
to  our  own  moods  and  echo  our  own  plaints  ; 
and  there  was  not  much  of  creative  genius  in 
Mrs.  Browning.  Her  poems  are  often  but  a 
prolonged  sob  ; a burst  of  almost  hysterical 
remonstrance  or  entreaty.  It  must  be  owned, 
however,  that  the  egotism  of  emotion  has 
seldom  found  such  exquisite  form  of  out- 
pouring as  in  her  so-called  “ Sonnets  from 
the  Portuguese  and  that  what  the  phrase- 
ology of  a school  would  call  the  emotion  of 
“ altruism”  has  rarely  been  given  forth  in 
tones  of  such  piercing  pathos  as  in  “ The  Cry 
of  the  Children.” 

Mr.  Matthew  Arnold’s  reputation  was 
made  before  this  earlier  period  had  closed. 
He  is  a maker  of  such  exquisite  and  thought- 
ful verse  that  it  is  hard  sometimes  to  question 


110 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


his  title  to  be  considered  a genuine  poet.  On 
the  other  hand,  it  is  likely  that  the  very  grace 
and  culture  and  thoughtfulness  of  his  style 
inspire  in  many  the  first  doubt  of  his  claim  to 
the  name  of  poet.  Where  the  art  is  evident 
and  elaborate,  we  are  all  too  apt  to  assume 
that  it  is  all  art  and  not  genius.  Mr.  Arnold 
is  a sort  of  miniature  Goethe  ; we  do  not 
know  that  his  most  ardent  admirers  could 
demand  a higher  praise  for  him,  while  it  is 
probable  that  the  description  will  suggest  ex- 
actly the  intellectual  peculiarities  which  lead 
so  many  to  deny  him  a place  with  the  really 
inspired  singers  of  his  day.  Of  the  three  men 
whom  we  have  named  we  should  be  inclined 
to  say  that  Mr.  Arnold  made  the  very  most 
of  his  powers,  and  Mr.  Browning  the  very 
least.  Mr.  Arnold  is  a critic  as  well  as  a 
poet : there  are  many  who  relish  him  more 
in  the  critic  than  in  the  poet.  In  literary 
criticism  his  judgment  is  refined,  and  his 
aims  are  always  high  if  his  range  be  not  very 
wide  ; in  politics  and  theology  he  is  some- 
what apt  to  be  at  once  fastidious  and  fantas- 
tic. 

The  “ Song  of  the  Shirt  ” would  give 
Thomas  Hood  a technical  right,  if  he  had 
none  other,  to  be  classed  as  a poet  of  the 
reign  of  Queen  Victoria.  The  “ Song  of  the 
Shirt  ” was  published  in  Punch  when  the 
reign  was  well  on  ; and  after  it  appeared 
“The  Bridge  of  Sighs;”  and  no  two  of 
Hood’s  poems  have  done  more  to  make  him 
famous.  He  was  a genuine  though  not  a 
great  poet,  in  whom  humor  was  most  prop- 
erly to  be  defined  as  Thackeray  has  defined 
it  — the  blending  of  love  and  wit.  The 
“Song  of  the  Shirt”  and  the  “Bridge  of 
Sighs”  made  themselves  a kind  of  monu- 
mental place  in  English  sympathies.  The 
“ Plea  of  the  Midsummer  Fairies”  was  writ- 
ten several  years  before.  It  alone  would 
have  made  for  its  author  a reputation.  The 
ballad  of  “ Fair  Inez”  is  almost  perfect  in  its 
Way.  The  name  of  Sir  Henry  Taylor  must 
be  included  with  the  poets  of  this  reign, 
although  his  best  work  was  done  before  the 
reign  began.  In  his  work,  clear  strong  intel- 
ligence prevails  more  than  the  emotional  and 
the  sensuous.  He  makes  himself  a poet  by 
virtue  of  intellect  and  artistic  judgment ; for 
there  really  do  seem  some  examples  of  a poet 
being  made  and  not  born.  We  can  hardly 
bring  Procter  among  the  Victorian  poets. 
Macaulay’s  ringing  verses  are  rather  the 
splendid  and  successful  tours  de  force  of  a 
'clever  man,  than  the  genuine  lyrics  of  a poet. 
Arthur  Clough  was  a man  of  rare  promise, 
whose  lamp  was  extinguished  all  too  soon. 
Philip  James  Bailey  startled  the  world  by 
his  “Festus,”  and  for  a time  made  people 
believe  that  a great  new  poet  was  coming  ; 
but  the  impression  did  not  last,  and  Bailey 
proved  to  be  little  more  than  the  comet  of  a 
season.  A spasmodic  school  which  sprang 
up  after  the  success  of  “ Festus,”  and  which 
was  led  by  a brilliant  young  Scotchman, 
Alexander  Smith,  passed  away  in  a spasm  as 
it  came,  and  is  now  almost  forgotten.  “ Ori- 
on,” an  epic  poem  by  Richard  H.  Horne, 
made  a very  distinct  mark  upon  the  time 
Horne  proved  himself  to  be  a sort  of  Landor 
manque — or  perhaps  a connecting  link  be- 
tween the  style  of  Landor  and  that  of  Brown- 
ing. The  earlier  part  of  the  reign  was  rich 
in  singers  ; but  the  names  and  careers  of 
most  of  them  would  serve  rather  to  show 
that  the  poetic  spirit  was  abroad,  and  that  it 
sought  expression  in  all  manner  of  forms, 
than  that  there  were  many  poets  to  dispute 
the  place  with  Tennyson  and  Browning.  It 
is  not  necessary  here  to  record  a list  of  mere 
names.  The  air  was  filled  with  the  voices  of 
minor  singers.  It  was  pleasant  to  listen  to 
their  piping,  and  the  general  effect  may  well 
be  commended  ; but  it  is  not  necessary  that 
the  names  of  all  the  performers  in  an  orches- 
tra should  be  recorded  for  the  supposed  grat- 
ification of  a posterity  which  assuredly  would 
never  stop  to  read  the  list. 

Thirty-six  years  have  passed  away  since 


Mr.  Ruskin  leaped  into  the  literary  arena, 
with  a spring  as  bold  and  startling  as  that  of 
Kean  on  the  Kemble-haunted  stage.  The 
little  volume,  so  modest  in  its  appearance  and 
self-sufficient  in  its  tone,  which  the  author 
defiantly  flung  down  like  a gage  of  battle  be- 
fore the  world,  was  entitled,  “Modern  Paint- 
ers : their  superiority  in  the  art  of  Landscape 
Painting  to  all  the  Ancient  Masters  ; by  a 
Graduate  of  Oxford.”  It  was  a challenge 
to  established  beliefs  and  prejudices  ; and 
the  challenge  was  delivered  in  the  tone  of 
one  who  felt  confident  that  he  could  make 
good  his  words  against  any  and  all  oppo- 
nents. If  there  was  one  thing  that  more 
than  another  seemed  to  have  been  fixed  and 
rooted  in  the  English  mind,  it  was  that 
Claude  and  one  or  two  others  of  the  old  mas- 
ters possessed  the  secret  of  landscape  paint- 
ing. When,  therefore,  a bold  young  dog 
matist  involved  in  one  common  denunciation 
“ Claude,  Gaspar  Poussin,  Salvator  Rosa, 
Ruysdael,  Paul  Potter,  Canaletto,  and  the 
various  Van  - somethings  and  Koek-some- 
tliings,  more  especially  and  malignantly  those 
who  have  libelled  the  sea,”  it  was  no  wonder 
that  affronted  authority  raised  its  indignant 
voice  and  thundered  at  him.  Affronted 
authority,  however,  gained  little  by  its  thun- 
der. The  young  Oxford  Graduate  possessed, 
along  with  genius  and  profound  conviction, 
an  imperturbable  and  magnificent  self-conceit 
against  which  the  surges  of  angry  criticism 
dashed  themselves  in  vain.  Mr.  Ruskin 
sprang  into  literary  life  simply  as  a vindicator 
of  the  fame  and  genius  of  Turner.  But  as 
he  went  on  with  his  task  he  found,  or  at  least 
he  convinced  himself,  that  the  vindication  of 
the  great  landscape  painter  was  essentially  a 
vindication  of  all  true  art.  Still  further  pro- 
ceeding with  his  self-imposed  task,  he  per- 
suaded himself  that  the  cause  of  true  art  was 
identical  with  the  cause  of  truth,  and  that 
truth,  from  Ruskin’s  point  of  view,  enclosed 
in  the  same  rules  and  principles  all  the 
morals,  all  the  science,  industry,  and  daily 
business  of  life.  Therefore  from  an  art-critic 
he  became  a moralist,  a political  economist, 
a philosopher,  a statesman,  a preacher — any- 
thing, everything  that  human  intelligence 
can  impel  a man  to  be.  All  that  he  has  writ- 
ten since  his  first  appeal  to  the  public  has 
been  inspired  by  this  conviction  : that  an  ap- 
preciation of  the  truth  in  art  reveals  to  him 
who  has  it  the  truth  in  everything.  This 
belief  has  been  the  source  of  Mr.  Ruskin’s 
greatest  successes,  and  of  his  most  complete 
and  ludicrous  failures.  It  has  made  him  the 
admiration  of  the  world  one  week  and  the 
object  of  its  placid  pity  or  broad  laughter  the 
next.  A being  who  could  be  Joan  of  Arc  to- 
day and  Voltaire’s  Pucelle  to-morrow,  would 
hardly  exhibit  a stronger  psychical  paradox 
than  the  eccentric  genius  of  Mr.  Ruskin 
sometimes  illustrates.  But  in  order  to  do 
him  justice,  and  not  to  regard  him  as  a mere 
erratic  utterer  of  eloquent  contradictions, 
poured  out  on  the  impulse  of  each  moment’s 
new  freak  of  fancy,  we  must  always  bear  in 
mind  the  fundamental  faith  of  the  man. 
Extravagant  as  this  or  that  doctrine  may  be, 
outrageous  as  to-day’s  contradiction  of  yes- 
terday’s assertion  may  sound,  yet  the  whole 
career  is  consistent  with  its  essential  princi- 
ples and  beliefs.  It  may  be  fairly  questioned 
whether  Mr.  Ruskin  has  any  great  qualities 
but  his  eloquence  and  his  true,  honest  love  of 
nature.  As  a man  to  stand  up  before  a so- 
ciety of  which  one  part  was  fashionably 
languid  and  the  other  part  only  too  busy  and 
greedy,  and  preach  to  it  of  Nature’s  immortal 
beauty,  and  of  the  true  way  to  do  her  rever- 
ence, Ruskin  has  and  had  a position  of  gen- 
uine dignity.  This  ought  to  be  enough  for 
the  work  and  for  the  praise  of  any  man.  But 
the  restlessness  of  Ruskin’s  temperament, 
combined  with  the  extraordinary  self-suffi- 
ciency which  contributed  so  much  to  his  suc- 
cess where  he  was  master  of  a subject,  sent 
him  perpetually  intruding  into  fields  where 
he  was  unfit  to  labor,  and  enterprises  which 


he  had  no  capacity  to  conduct.  Seldom  has 
a man  contradicted  himself  so  often,  so  reck- 
lessly, and  so  complacently  as  Mr.  Ruskin. 
It  is  venturesome  to  call  him  a great  critic 
even  in  art,  for  he  seldom  expresses  any 
opinion  one  day  without  flatly  contradicting 
it  the  next.  He  is  a great  writer,  as  Rousseau 
was — fresh,  eloquent,  audacious,  writing  out 
of  the  fulness  of  the  present  mood,  and  heed- 
less how  far  the  impulse  of  to-day  may  con- 
travene that  of  yesterday.  But  as  Rousseau 
was  always  faithful  to  his  idea  of  truth,  so 
Ruskin  is  always  faithful  to  Nature.  When 
all  his  errors,  and  paradoxes,  and  contradic- 
tions shall  have  been  utterly  forgotten,  this 
will  remain  to  his  praise.  No  man  since 
Wordsworth’s  brightest  days  did  half  so 
much  to  teach  his  countrymen,  and  those 
who  speak  his  language,  how  to  appreciate 
and  honor  that  silent  Nature  “which  never 
did  betray  the  heart  that  loved  her.” 

In  fiction  as  well  as  in  poetry  there  are  two 
great  names  to  be  compared  or  contrasted 
when  we  turn  to  the  literature  of  the  earlier 
part  of  the  reign.  In  the  very  year  of  Queen 
Victoria’s  accession  appeared  the  “ Pickwick 
Papers,”  the  work  of  the  author  who  the 
year  before  had  published  the  “ Sketches  by 
Boz.”  The  public  soon  recognized  the  fact 
that  a new  and  wonderfully  original  force 
had  come  into  literature.  The  success  of 
Charles  Dickens  is  absolutely  unequalled  in 
the  history  of  English  fiction.  At  the  season 
of  his  highest  popularity  Sir  Walter  Scott 
was  not  so  popular  an  author.  But  that  hap- 
pened to  Dickens  which  did  not  happen  to 
Scott.  When  Dickens  was  at  his  zenith, 
and  when  it  might  have  been  thought  that 
any  manner  of  rivalry  with  him  was  impos- 
sible, a literary  man  who  was  no  longer 
young,  who  had  been  working  with  but 
moderate  success  for  many  years  in  light  lit- 
erature, suddenly  took  to  writing  novels,  and 
almost  in  a moment  stepped  up  to  a level 
with  the  author  of  “Pickwick.”  During 
the  remainder  of  their  careers  the  two  men 
stood  as  nearly  as  possible  on  the  same  level. 
Dickens  always  remained  by  far  the  more 
popular  of  the  two  ; but  on  the  other  hand 
it  may  be  safely  said  that  the  opinion  of  the 
literary  world  in  general  was  inclined  to 
favor  Thackeray.  From  the  time  of  the 
publication  of  “ Vanity  Fair”  the  two  were 
always  put  side  by  side  for  comparison  or 
contrast.  They  have  been  sometimes  likened 
to  Fielding  and  Smollett,  but  no  comparison 
could  be  more  misleading  or  less  happy. 
Smollett  stands  on  a level  distinctly  and  con- 
siderably below  that  of  Fielding  ; but  Dick- 
ens cannot  be  said  to  stand  thus  beneath 
Thackeray.  If  the  comparison  were  to  hold 
at  all,  Thackeray  must  be  compared  to  Field- 
ing, for  Fielding  is  not  in  the  least  like  Dick- 
ens ; but  then  it  must  be  allowed  that  Smol- 
lett wants  many  of  the  higher  qualities  of  the 
author  of  ‘ ‘ David  Coppertield.  ’ ’ It  is  natural 
that  men  should  compare  Dickens  and 
Thackeray  ; but  the  two  will  be  found  to  be 
curiously  unlike  when  once  a certain  super- 
ficial resemblance  ceases  to  impress  the  mind. 
Their  ways  of  treating  a subject  were  not 
only  dissimilar  but  were  absolutely  in  con- 
trast. They  started,  to  begin  with,  under 
the  influence  of  a totally  different  philosophy 
of  life,  if  that  is  to  be  called  a philosophy 
which  was  probably  only  the  result  of  pecu- 
liarity of  temperament  in  each  case.  Pick- 
ens set  out  on  the  literary  theory  that  in  life 
everything  is  better  than  it  looks  ; Thackeray 
with  the  impression  that  it  is  worse.  In  the 
one  case  there  was  somewhat  too  much  of  a 
mechanical  interpretation  of  everything  for 
the  best  in  the  best  possible  world  ; in  the 
other  the  savor  of  cynicism  was  at  times  a 
little  annoying.  As  each  writer  went  on  the 
peculiarity  became  more  and  more  of  a man- 
nerism But  the  writings  of  Dickens  were 
far  more  deeply  influenced  by  his  peculiar- 
ities of  feeling  or  philosophy  than  those  of 
Thackeray.  A large  share  of  the  admiration 
which  is  popularly  given  to  Dickens  is  un- 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


Ill 


doubtedly  a tribute  to  what  people  consider 
his  cheerful  view  of  life.  In  that  too  he  is 
especially  English.  In  this  country  the  artistic 
theory  of  France  and  other  Continental  na- 
tions, borrowed  from  the  aesthetic  principles 
of  Greece,  which  accords  the  palm  to  the  ar- 
tistic treatment  rather  than  to  the  subject,  or 
the  purpose,  or  the  way  of  looking  at  things, 
has  found  hardly  any  broad  and  general  ac- 
ceptation. The  popularity  of  Dickens  was 
therefore  in  great  measure  due  to  the  fact 
that  he  set  forth  life  in  cheerful  lights  and 
colors.  He  had  of  course  gifts  of  far  higher 
artistic  value ; he  could  describe  anything 
that  he  saw  with  a fidelity  which  Balzac  could 
not  have  surpassed  ; and  like  Balzac  he  had 
a way  of  inspiring  inanimate  objects  with  a 
mystery  and  motive  of  their  own  which  gave 
them  often  a weird  and  fascinating  individu- 
ality. But  it  must  be  owned  that  if  Dick- 
ens’s peculiar  “philosophy”  were  effaced 
from  his  works  the  fame  of  the  author  would 
remain  a very  different  thing  from  what  it  is 
at  the  present  moment.  On  the  other  hand 
it  would  be  possible  to  cut  out  of  Thackeray 
all  his  little  cynical,  melancholy  sentences  and 
reduce  his  novels  to  bare  descriptions  of  life 
and  character,  without  affecting  in  any  sensi- 
ble degree  his  influence  on  the  reader  or  his 
position  in  literature.  Thackeray  had  a 
marvellously  keen  appreciation  of  human 
motive  and  character  within  certain  limits. 
If  Dickens  could  draw  an  old  quaint  house 
or  an  odd  family  interior  as  faithfully  and  yet 
as  picturesquely  as  Balzac,  so  on  the  other 
hand  not  Balzac  himself  could  analyze  and 
illustrate  the  weaknesses  and  foibles  of  cer- 
tain types  of  character  with  greater  subtlety 
of  judgment  and  force  of  exposition  than 
Thackeray.  Dickens  had  little  or  no  knowl- 
edge of  human  character,  and  evidently  cared 
very  little  about  the  study.  His  stories  are 
fairy  tales  made  credible  by  the  masterly  real- 
ism with  which  he  described  all  the  surround- 
ings and  accessories,  the  costumes  and  the 
ways  of  his  men  and  women.  While  we  are 
reading  of  a man  whose  odd  peculiarities 
strike  us  with  a sense  of  reality  as  if  we  had 
observed  them  for  ourselves  many  a time, 
while  we  see  him  surrounded  by  streets  and 
houses  which  seem  to  us  rather  more  real  and 
a hundred  times  more  interesting  than  those 
through  which  we  pass  every  day,  we  are  not 
likely  to  observe  very  quickly,  or  to  take  much 
heed  of  the  fact  when  we  do  observe  it,  that 
the  man  acts  on  various  important  occasions 
of  his  life  as  only  people  in  fairy  stories  ever 
do  act.  Thackeray,  on  the  other  hand,  cared 
little  for  descriptions  of  externals.  He  left 
his  readers  to  construct  for  themselves  the 
greater  part  of  the  surroundings  of  his  per- 
sonages from  his  description  of  the  characters 
of  the  personages  themselves.  He  made  us 
acquainted  with  the  man  or  woman  in  his 
chapters  as  if  we  had  known  him  or  her  all 
our  life  ; and  knowing  Pendennis  or  Becky 
Sharp  we  had  no  ditllculty  in  constructing 
the  surroundings  of  either  for  ourselves. 
Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  these  two  eminent 
authors  had  not  only  different  ideas  about 
life,  but  absolutely  contrasting  principles  of 
art.  One  worked  from  the  externals  inward  ; 
the  other  realized  the  unseen,  and  left  the  ex- 
ternals to  grow  of  themselves.  Three  great 
peculiarities,  however,  they  shared.  Each 
lived  and  wrote  of  and  for  London.  Dickens 
created  for  art  the  London  of  the  middle  and 
poorer  classes  ; Thackeray  did  the  same  for 
the  London  of  the  upper  class  and  for  those 
who  strive  to  imitate  their  ways.  Neither 
ever  even  attempted  to  describe  a man  kept 
constantly  above  and  beyond  the  atmosphere 
of  mere  egotism  by  some  sustaining  greatness 
or  even  intensity  of  purpose.  In  Dickens, 
as  in  Thackeray,  the  emotions  described  are 
those  o?  conventional  life  merely.  This  is 
not  to  be' said  in  disparagement  of  either  ar- 
tist. It  is  rather  a tribute  to  an  artist’s 
knowledge  of  his  own  capacity  and  sphere 
of  work  that  he  only  attempts  to  draw  what 
he  thoroughly  understands.  But  it  is  proper 


to  remark  of  Dickens  and  of  Thackeray,  as 
of  Balzac,  that  the  life  they  described  was 
after  all  but  the  life  of  a coterie  or  a quarter, 
and  that  there  existed  side  by  side  with  their 
field  of  work  a whole  world  of  emotion,  as- 
piration, struggle,  defeat,  and  triumph,  of 
which  their  brightest  pages  do  not  give  a 
single  suggestion.  This  is  the  more  curious 
to  observe  because  of  the  third  peculiarity 
which  Dickens  and  Thackeray  had  in  com- 
mon— a love  for  the  purely  ideal  and  roman- 
tic in  fiction.  There  are  many  critics  who 
hold  that  Dickens  in  “ Barnaby  Rudge”  and 
the  “ Tale  of  Two  Cities,”  Thackeray  in 
“ Esmond,”  exhibited  powers  which  vindi- 
cated for  their  possessors  a very  rare  infusion 
of  that  higher  poetic  spirit  which  might  have 
made  of  both  something  greater  than  the 
painters  of  the  manners  of  a day  and  a class. 
But  to  paint  the  manners  of  a day  and  a class 
as  Dickens  and  Thackeray  have  done  is  to 
deserve  fame  and  the  gratitude  of  posterity. 
The  age  of  Victoria  may  claim  in  this  respect 
an  equality  at  least  with  that  of  the  reign 
which  produced  Fielding  and  Smollett ; for 
if  there  are  some  who  would  demand  for 
Fielding  a higher  place  on  the  whole  than  can 
be  given  either  to  Dickens  or  to  Thackeray, 
there  are  not  many  on  the  other  hand  who 
would  not  say  that  either  Dickens  or  Thack- 
eray is  distinctly  superior  to  Smollett.  The 
age  must  claim  a high  place  in  art  which 
could  in  one  department  alone  produce  two 
such  competitors.  Their  effect  upon  their 
time  was  something  marvellous.  People 
talked  Dickens  or  thought  Thackeray. 

Passion,  it  will  be  seen,  counted  for  little 
in  the  works  of  Dickens  and  Thackeray. 
Dickens,  indeed,  could  draw  a conventionally 
or  dramatically  wicked  man  with  much  power 
and  impressiveness  ; and  Thackeray  could 
suggest  certain  forms  of  vice  with  wonderful 
delicacy  and  yet  vividness.  But  the  passions 
which  are  common  to  all  human  natures  in 
their  elementary  moods  made  but  litle  play  in 
the  novels  of  either  writer.  Both  were  in 
this  respect,  for  all  their  originality  and  gen- 
ius in  other  ways,  highly  and  even  exclusive- 
ly conventional.  There  was  apparently  a 
sort  of  understanding  in  the  mind  of  each — 
indeed  Thackeray  has  admitted  as  much  in 
his  preface  to  “ Pendennis” — that  men  and 
women  were  not  to  be  drawn  as  men  and 
women  are  known  to  be,  but  with  certain 
reserves  to  suit  conventional  etiquette.  It  is 
somewhat  curious  that  the  one  only  novel 
writer  who  during  the  period  we  are  now 
considering  came  into  any  real  rivalry  with 
them,  was  one  who  depended  on  passion  al- 
together for  her  material  and  her  success. 
The  novels  of  a young  woman,  Charlotte 
Bronte,  compelled  all  English  society  into  a 
recognition  not  alone  of  their  own  sterling 
power  and  genius,  but  also  of  the  fact  that 
profound  and  passionate  emotion  was  still 
the  stuff  out  of  which  great  fiction  could  be 
constructed.  “ Exultations,  agonies,  and 
love,  and  man’s  unconquerable  mind,”  were 
taken  by  Charlotte  Bronte  as  the  matter  out 
of  which  her  art  was  to  produce  its  triumphs. 
The  novels  which  made  her  fame,  “ Jane 
Eyre”  and  “ Villette,”  are  positively  aflame 
with  passion  and  pain.  They  have  little  va- 
riety. They  make  hardly  any  pretence  to  ac- 
curate drawing  of  ordinary  men  and  women 
in  ordinary  life,  or  at  all  events  under  ordi- 
nary conditions.  The  authoress  had  little  of 
the  gift  of  the  mere  story-teller  ; and  her 
own  peculiar  powers  were  exerted  sometimes 
with  indifferent  success.  The  familiar  on 
whom  she  depended  for  her  inspiration 
would  not  always  come  at  call.  She  had  lit- 
tle genuine  relish  for  beauty,  except  the 
beauty  of  a weird  melancholy  and  of  decay. 
But  when  she  touched  the  chord  of  element- 
ary human  emotion  with  her  best  skill,  then 
it  was  impossible  for  her  audience  not  to  feel 
that  they  were  under  the  spell  of  a power 
rare  indeed  in  our  well-ordered  days.  The 
absolute  sincerity  of  the  author’s  expression 
of  feeling  lent  it  great  part  of  its  strength  and 


charm.  Nothing  was  ever  said  by  her  be- 
cause it  seemed  to  society  the  right  sort  of 
thing  to  say.  She  told  a friend  that  she  felt 
sure  “ Jane  Eyre”  would  have  an  effect  on 
readers  in  general  because  it  had  so  great  an 
effect  on  herself.  It  would  be  possible  to 
argue  that  the  great  strength  of  the  books  lay 
in  their  sincerity  alone ; that  Charlotte 
Bronte  was  not  so  much  a woman  of  extra- 
ordinary genius  as  a woman  who  looked  her 
own  feelings  fairly  in  the  face,  and  painted 
them  as  she  saw  them.  But  the  capacity  to 
do  this  would  surely  be  something  which  we 
could  not  better  describe  than  by  the  word 
genius.  Charlotte  Bronte  was  far  from  being 
an  artist  of  fulfilled  power.  She  is  rather  to 
be  regarded  as  one  who  gave  evidence  of  ex- 
traordinary gifts  which  might  with  time  and 
care,  and  under  happier  artistic  auspices, 
have  been  turned  to  such  account  as  would 
have  made  for  her  a fame  with  the  very  chiefs 
of  her  tribe.  She  died  at  an  age  hardly  more 
mature  than  that  at  which  Thackeray  won 
his  first  distinct  literary  success  ; much  ear- 
lier than  the  age  at  which  some  of  our  great- 
est novelists  brought  forth  their  first  com- 
pleted novels.  But  she  left  a very  deep  im- 
pression on  her  time,  and  the  time  that  has 
come  and  is  coming  after  her.  No  other 
hand  in  the  age  of  Queen  Victoria  has  dealt 
with  human  emotion  so  powerfully  and  so 
truthfully.  Hers  are  not  cheerful  novels.  A 
cold  gray  mournful  atmosphere  hangs  over 
them.  One  might  imagine  that  the  shadow 
of  an  early  death  is  forecast  on  them.  They 
love  to  linger  among  the  glooms  of  nature,  to 
haunt  her  darkling  wintry  twilights,  to  study 
her  stormy  sunsets,  to  link  man’s  destiny  and 
his  hopes,  fears,  and  passions  somehow  with 
the  glare  and  gloom  of  storm  and  darkness, 
and  to  read  the  symbols  of  his  fate  as  the 
foredoomed  and  passion-wasted  Antony  did 
in  the  cloud-masses  that  are  “ black  vesper’s 
pageants.”  The  supernatural  had  a constant 
vague  charm  for  Charlotte  Bronte,  as  the 
painful  had.  Man  was  to  her  a being  torn 
between  passionate  love  and  the  more  ignoble 
impulses  and  ambitions  and  common-day  oc- 
cupations of  life.  Woman  was  a being  of 
equal  passion,  still  more  sternly  and  cruelly 
doomed  to  repression  and  renunciation.  It 
was  a strange  fact  that  in  the  midst  of  the 
splendid  material  successes  and  the  quietly 
triumphant  intellectual  progress  of  this  most 
prosperous  and  well-ordered  age,  when  even 
in  its  poetry  and  its  romance  passion  was  sys- 
tematically toned  down  and  put  in  thrall  to 
good  taste  and  propriety,  this  young  writer 
should  have  suddenly  come  out  with  her 
books  all  thrilling  with  emotion,  and  all  pro- 
testing in  the  strongest  practical  manner 
against  the  theory  that  the  loves  and  hates  of 
men  and  women  had  been  tamed  by  the  pro- 
cess of  civilization.  Perhaps  the  very  novelty 
of  the  apparition  was  in  great  measure  a part 
of  its  success.  Charlotte  Bronte  did  not,  in- 
deed, influence  the  general  public,  or  even 
the  literary  public,  to  anything  like  the  same 
extent  that  Thackeray  and  Dickens  did.  She 
appeared  and  passed  away  almost  in  a mo- 
ment. As  Miss  Martineau  said  of  her,  she 
stole  like  a shadow  into  literature,  and  then 
became  a shadow  again.  But  she  struck 
very  deeply  into  the  heart  of  the  time.  If 
her  writings  were  only,  as  has  been  said  of 
them,  a cry  of  pain,  yet  they  were  such  a 
cry  as  once  heard  lingers  and  echoes  iu  the 
mind  forever  after.  Godwin  declared  that 
he  would  write  in  “ Caleb  Williams”  a book 
which  would  leave  no  man  who  read  it  the 
same  that  he  was  before.  Something  not  un- 
like this  might  be  said  of  “ Jane  Eyre.”  No 
one  who  read  it  was  exactly  the  same  that  he 
had  been  before  he  opened  its  weird  and  won- 
derful pages. 

No  man  could  well  have  made  more  of  his 
gifts  than  Lord  Lytton.  Before  the  coming 
up  of  Dickens  and  Thackeray  he  stood  above 
afi  living  English  novelists.  Perhaps  this  is 
rather  to  the  reproach  of  the  English  fiction 
of  the  day  than  to  the  renown  of  Lord  Lyt- 


112 


A HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


ton.  But  even  after  Dickens  and  Thack- 
eray and  Charlotte  Brontii  and  later  and  not 
less  powerful  and  original  writers  had  ap- 
peared in  the  same  field,  he  still  held  a place 
of  great  mark  in  literature.  That  he  was 
not  a man  of  genius  is,  perhaps,  conclusively 
proved  by  the  fact  that  he  was  able  so  read- 
ily to  change  liis  style  to  suit  the  tastes  of 
each  day.  He  began  by  writing  of  fops  and 
roues  of  a time  now  almost  forgotten  ; then 
be  made  heroes  of  highwaymen  and  murder- 
ers ; afterwards  he  tried  the  philosophic  and 
mildly  didactic  style  ; then  he  turned  to  mys- 
ticism and  spiritualism  ; later  still  he  wrote 
of  the  French  Second  Empire.  Whatever  he 
tried  to  do  he  did  well.  Besides  his  novels 
he  wrote  plays  and  poems  ; and  his  plays  are 
among  the  very  few  modern  productions 
which  manage  to  keep  the  stage.  He  played, 

too,  and  with  much  success,  at  being  a states- 
man and  an  orator.  Not  Demosthenes  him- 
self had  such  difficulties  of  articulation  to 
contend  against  in  the  beginning  ; and  De- 
mosthenes conquered  his  difficulties,  while 
some  of  those  in  the  way  of  Lord  Lytton 
proved  unconquerable.  Yet  Lord  Lytton 
did  somehow  contrive  to  become  a great 
speaker,  and  to  seem  occasionally  like  a great 
orator  in  the  House  of  Commons.  He  was 
at  the  very  least  a superb  phrase-maker  ; and 
he  could  turn  to  account  every  scrap  of 
knowledge  in  literature,  art,  or  science  which 
he  happened  to  possess.  His  success  in  the 
House  of  Commons  was  exactly  like  his  suc- 
cess in  romance  and  the  drama.  He  threw 
himself  into  competition  with  men  of  far 
higher  original  gifts,  and  he  made  so  good  a 
show  of  contesting  with  them  that  in  the 
minds  of  many  the  victory  was  not  clearly 
with  his  antagonists.  There  was  always, 
for  example,  a considerable  class,  even 
among  educated  persons,  who  maintained 
that  Lytton  was  in  his  way  quite  the  peer  of 
Thackeray  and  Dickens.  His  plays,  or  some 
of  them,  obtained  a popularity  only  second 
to  those  of  Shakespeare ; and  although  nobody 
cared  to  read  them,  yet  people  were  always 
found  to  go  and  look  at  them.  When  Lyt- 
ton went  into  the  House  of  Commons  for  the 
second  time  he  found  audiences  which  were 
occasionally  tempted  to  regard  him  as  the  rival 
of  Gladstone  and  Bright.  Not  a few  persons 
saw  in  all  this  only  a sort  of  superb  charla- 
ianerie  ; and  indeed  it  is  certain  that  no  man 
ever  made  and  kept  a genuine  success  in  so 
many  different  fields  as  those  in  which  Lord 
Lytton  tried  and  seemed  to  succeed.  But  he 
had  splendid  qualities  ; he  had  everything 
short  of  genius.  He  had  indomitable  pa- 
tience, inexhaustible  power  of  self-culture, 
and  a capacity  for  assimilating  the  floating 
ideas  of  the  hour  which  supplied  the  place  of 
originality.  He  borrowed  from  the  poet  the 
knack  of  poetical  expression,  and  from  the 
dramatist  the  trick  of  construction  ; from 
the  Byronic  time  its  professed  scorn  for  the 
false  gods  of  the  world  ; and  from  the  more 
modern  period  of  popular  science  and  sham 
mysticism  its  extremes  of  materialism  and 
magic  ; and  of  these  and  various  other  bor- 
rowings he  made  up  an  article  which  no  one 
else  could  have  constructed  out  of  the  same 
materials.  He  was  not  a great  author  ; but 
he  was  a great  literary  man.  Mr.  Disraeli’s 
novels  belong  in  some  measure  to  the  school 
of  “ Pelham”  and  “ Godolphin.”  But  it 
should  be  said  that  Mr.  Disraeli’s  “ Vivian 
Grey”  was  published  before  “ Pelham” 
made  its  appearance.  In  all  that  belongs  to 
political  life  Mr.  Disraeli’s  novels  are  far  su- 
perior to  those  of  Lord  Lytton.  We  have 
nothing  in  our  literature  to  compare  with 


some  of  the  best  of  Mr.  Disraeli’s  novels  for 
light  political  satire,  and  for  easy  accurate 
characterization  of  political  cliques  and  per- 
sonages. But  all  else  in  Disraeli’s  novels  is 
sham.  The  sentiment,  the  poetry,  the 
philosophy  — all  these  are  sham.  They 
have  not  half  the  appearance  of  reality 
about  them  that  Lytton  has  contrived  to 
give  to  his  efforts  of  the  same  kind.  In 
one  at  least  of  Disraeli’s  latest  novels  the 
political  sketches  and  satirizing  became 
sham  also. 

“ Alton  Locke”  was  published  nearly 
thirty  years  ago.  Then  Charles  Kingsley  be- 
came to  most  boys  in  Great  Britain  who 
read  books  at  all  a sort  of  living  embodi- 
ment of  chivalry,  liberty,  and  a revolt  against 
the  established  order  of  class-oppression  in  so 
many  spheres  of  our  society.  For  a long 
time  he  continued  to  be  the  chosen  hero  of 
young  men  with  the  youthful  spirit  of  revolt 
in  them,  with  dreams  of  Republics  and  ideas 
about  the  equality  of  man.  Later  on  he  com- 
manded other  admiration  for  other  qualities, 
for  the  championship  of  slave  systems,  of  op- 
pression, and  the  iron  reign  of  mere  force. 
But  though  Charles  Kingsley  always  held  a 
high  place  somewhere  in  popular  estimation, 
he  is  not  to  be  rated  very  highly  as  an  au- 
thor. He  described  glowing  scenery  admira- 
bly,  and  he  rang  the  changes  vigorously  on 
his  two  or  three  ideas — the  muscular  English- 
man, the  glory  of  the  Elizabethan  discover- 
ies, and  so  on.  He  was  a scholar,  and  he 
wrote  verses  which  sometimes  one  is  on  the 
point  of  mistaking  for  poetry,  so  much  of  the 
poet’s  feeling  have  they  in  them.  He  did  a 
great  many  things  very  cleverly.  Perhaps  if 
he  had  done  less  he  might  have  done  better. 
Human  capacity  is  limited.  It  is  not  given  to 
mortal  to  be  a great  preacher,  a great  philos- 
opher, a great  scholar,  a great  poet,  a great 
historian,  a great  novelist,  and  an  indefatiga- 
ble country  parson.  Charles  Kingsley  never 
seems  to  have  made  up  his  mind  for  which 
of  these  callings  to  go  in  especially,  and  being 
with  all  his  versatility  not  at  all  many- 
sided,  but  strictly  one-sided  and  almost  one- 
idead,  the  result  was,  that  while  touching 
success  at  many  points  he  absolutely  master- 
ed it  at  none.  Since  his  novel  “ Westward 
Ho,”  he  never  added  anything  substantial  to 
his  reputation.  All  this  acknowledged,  how- 
ever, it  must  still  be  owned  that  failing  in 
this,  that,  and  the  other  attempt,  and  never 
achieving  any  real  and  enduring  success, 
Charles  Kingsley  was  an  influence  and  a man 
of  mark  in  the  Victorian  age. 

Perhaps  a word  ought  to  be  said  of  the 
rattling  romances  of  Irish  electioneering, 
love-making,  and  fighting  which  set  people 
reading  “Charles  O’Malley”  and  “Jack 
Hinton,”  even  when  “ Pickwick”  was  still  a 
novelty.  Charles  Lever  had  wonderful  an- 
imal spirits  and  a broad,  bright  humor.  He 
was  quite  genuine  in  his  way.  He  after- 
wards changed  his  style  completely,  and  with 
much  success  ; and  will  be  found  in  the  later 
part  of  the  period  holding  just  the  same  rela- 
tive place  as  in  the  earlier,  just  behind  the 
foremost  men,  but  in  manner  so  different 
that  he  might  be  a new  writer  who  had  never 
read  a line  of  the  roystering  adventures  of 
Light  Dragoons  which  were  popular  when 
Charles  Lever  first  gave  them  to  the  world. 
There  was  nothing  great  about  Lever,  but 
the  literature  of  the  Victorian  period  would 
not  be  quite  all  that  we  know  it  without  him. 
There  were  many  other  popular  novelists  du- 
ring the  period  we  have  passed  over,  some  in 
their  day  more  popular  than  either  Thackeray 
or  Charlotte  Bronte.  Many  of  us  can  re- 


membet . 


"30112  062231177 

— luo  mucn  ashamed  of 
the  fact,  that  there  were  early  days  when 
Mr.  James  and  his  cavaliers  and  his  chivalric 
adventures  gave  nearly  as  much  delight  as 
W alter  Scott  could  have  given  to  the  youth 
of  a preceding  generation.  But  Walter  Scott 
is  with  us  still,  young  and  old,  and  poor 
James  is  gone.  His  once  famous  solitary 
horseman  has  ridden  away  into  actual  soli- 
tude, and  the  shades  of  night  have  gathered 
over  his  heroic  form. 


The  founding  of  Punch  drew  together  a 
host  of  clever  young  writers,  some  of  whom 
made  a really  deep  mark  on  the  literature  of 
their  time,  and  the  combined  influence  of 
whom  in  this  artistic  and  literary  undertak- 
ing was  on  the  whole  decidedly  healthy. 
Thackeray  was  by  far  the  greatest  of  the  reg- 
ular contributors  to  Punch  in  its  earlier  days. 
But  “ The  Song  of  the  Shirt”  appeared  in  its 
pages,  and  some  of  the  brightest  of  Douglas 
Jerrold’s  writings  made  their  appearance 
there.  launch  was  a thoroughly  English 
production.  It  had  little  or  nothing  in  com- 
mon with  the  comic  periodicals  of  Paris.  It 
ignored  absolutely  and  of  set  purpose  the 
whole  class  of  subjects  which  make  up  three 
fourths  of  the  stock  in  trade  of  a French 
satirist.  The  escapades  of  husbands  and  the 
infidelities  of  wives  form  the  theme  of  by  far 
the  greater  number  of  the  humorous  sketches 
with  pen  or  pencil  in  Parisian  comicalities. 
Punch  kept  altogether  aloof  from  such  un- 
savory subjects.  It  had  an  advantage,  of 
course,  which  was  habitually  denied  to  the 
French  papers — it  had  unlimited  freedom  of 
political  satire  and  caricature.  Politics  and 
the  more  trivial  troubles  and  trials  of  social 
life  gave  subjects  to  Punch.  The  inequali- 
ties of  class,  and  the  struggles  of  ambitious 
and  vain  persons  to  get  into  circles  higher 
than  their  own,  or  at  least  to  imitate  their 
manners — these  supplied  for  Punch  the  place 
of  the  class  of  topics  on  which  French  pa- 
pers relied  when  they  had  to  deal  with  the 
domestic  life  of  the  nation.  Punchi  started 
by  being  somewhat  fiercely  radical,  but  grad- 
ually toned  away  into  a sort  of  intelligent 
and  respectable  Conservatism.  Its  artistic 
sketches  were  from  first  to  last  admirable. 
Some  men  of  true  genius  wrought  for  it  with 
the  pencil  as  others  did  with  the  pen.  Doyle, 
Leech,  and  Tenniel  were  men  of  whom  any 
school  of  art  might  well  be  proud.  A re- 
markable sobriety  of  style  was  apparent  in 
all  their  humors.  Of  later  years  caricature 
has  had  absolutely  no  place  in  the  illustra- 
tions to  Punch.  The  satire  is  quiet,  delicate, 
and  no  doubt  superficial.  It  is  a satire  of 
manners,  dress,  and  social  ways  altogether. 
There  is  justice  in  the  criticism  that  of  late 
more  especially  the  pages  of  Punch  give  no 
idea  whatever  of  the  emotions  of  the  English 
people.  There  is  no  suggestion  of  grievance, 
of  bitterness,  of  passion  or  pain.  It  is  all 
made  up  of  the  pleasures  and  annoyances  of 
the  kind  of  life  which  is  enclosed  in  a garden 
party.  But  it  must  be  said  that  Punch  has 
thus  always  succeeded  in  maintaining  a good, 
open,  convenient,  neutral  ground,  where 
young  men  and  fnaidens,  girls  and  boys,  eld- 
erly politicians  and  staid  matrons. , last— 
trade,  science,  all  sects  and  creeds,  mSy  safe- 
ly and  pleasantly  mingle.  It  is  not  so,  to  be 
sure,  that  great  satire  is  wrought.  A Swift 
or  a Juvenal  is  not  thus  to  be  brought  out. 
But  a votary  of  the  present  would  have  his 
answer  simple  and  conclusive  : We  live  in 
the  age  of  Punch  ; we  do  not  live  in  the  age 
of  Juvenal  or  Swift. 


END  OP  VOLUME  II. 


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